


P is for Perverted

by spookyawards_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-21
Updated: 2003-01-21
Packaged: 2019-04-27 05:59:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14419155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyawards_archivist/pseuds/spookyawards_archivist
Summary: During the course of an emotional investigation, Scully discovers a huge secret of Mulder's, realizing she doesn't know as much about him as she thought she did.





	P is for Perverted

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Spooky Awards](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Spooky_Awards), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [SpookyAwards' collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/spookyawards/profile).

 

P is for Perverted

## P is for Perverted

### by Donnilee
    
    
    TITLE:      P is for Perverted
    AUTHOR:     Donnilee
    RATING:     NC-17
    

WARNING: Descriptive sex. Smut warning. **CATEGORY: MSR / ANGST**

SUMMARY: During the course of an emotional investigation, Scully discovers a huge secret of Mulder's, realizing she doesn't know as much about him as she thought she did. 

SPOILERS: Little ones for previous episodes here and there, nothing specific. Minor references to phrases and characters from other episodes. 

DISCLAIMER: Nope. Not mine. Used shamelessly and without remorse. They belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox Broadcasting, and god knows who else, but not me. 

**WEBSTER'S NINTH COLLEGIATE DICTIONARY**

Per-vert-ed \per-'vert-ed\ adj (1667) 1 : CORRUPT 2 : marked by perversion --- per-vert-ed-ly, adv ---per-vert-ed-ness, n. 

Per-ver-sion \ per-'ver-zhen, -shen\ n (14c) 1 : the action of perverting : the condition of being perverted 2 : a perverted form; esp ; an aberrant sexual practice esp. when habitual and preferred to normal coitus. 

* * *

* * *

**INTRODUCTION (PG-13)**  
**MARCH 1, 2001**  
**THURSDAY MORNING, 2:00 AM**  
**DANA SCULLY'S APARTMENT**

The damned phone was ringing. She shook her head to clear it and rolled over, knowing it was him. Hadn't they talked enough tonight? They'd had the worst fight of our entire partnership. She was still reeling from it. She'd come home and cried herself to sleep, still not totally understanding what had happened and how it got so out of hand. She didn't know what to think, what to feel. It was all too fresh. She'd learned some things about my partner that had made her stagger. 

Couldn't he just leave me alone for one night? Then I felt a wave of guilt as she remembered how it had ended. She'd screamed at him, at the top of my lungs.  <Don't fucking touch me! I can't stand the sight of you right now! I have to go. I don't know if I'll ever be back! I need to think. [Scully, wait! Pllleeeaaassseee, don't leave me!] Give me some time! I can't even look at you right now!> She'd flown out the door, slamming it behind her. 

She was still groggy as she glanced at the clock. Two AM, good lord. She snapped. Her guilt was washed away behind the crashing anger. She had gotten only three hours sleep. She grabbed the receiver. "WHAT!? Can't I have any peace, even a couple of hours?!" 

[Agent Scully?] 

She sat straight up in bed, realizing it wasn't my partner. "Sir?" 

[Agent Scully, it's A.D. Skinner.] 

"Yes, I know. I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to yell at you. I thought you were someone else." 

[Obviously.] He wouldn't call me this time of night unless it was an emergency. 

"What's wrong? It's 2:00 AM." 

[I'm aware of the time, Agent, believe me. I was dragged out of bed myself.] 

"Sorry, sir. What's up?" 

[I'm at D.C. General.] I waited. [Mulder's here.] 

"Oh shit! What happened now? Did the idiot go out driving after our fight and get in a car accident? Is he all right?" 

There was a moment of silence. [He's in the psych ward.] 

"The psych ward! What for?" 

Another moment of silence. [Agent Scully, he tried to kill himself.] 

Holymotherofgod! Her voice came out a whisper, "Oh lord, no, Mulder. No!" She felt my heart sink into my stomach. Oh God! 

[Yes, I'm afraid he's in bad shape. He downed an entire bottle of Valium and an entire bottle of Percocet. It was a lethal dose.] 

"What? How did he get ...?" 

She was on her feet, yanking on her sweat pants as she talked with the phone tucked between her ear and shoulder. [One of his neighbors heard you fighting.] 

"Shit!" 

[Yeah, well, good thing. He heard him wailing after you left and went over to check on him. He didn't answer the door. An hour later, he knocked again because he said it was 'too quiet'. He says Mulder always watches TV, and he can hear it through his walls until at least 3 AM every night. No TV, he got worried and knocked again. When he got no answer, he woke the landlord up and they opened the door. They found him unconscious on the bathroom floor. He had his weapon in his hand, but I guess he thought the pills would leave less of a mess.] 

"Oh sweet Jesus. Sir, I..." 

[They called me and I went straight over there and then followed to the hospital. They pumped his stomach and filled him full of saline and gave him a mild sedative. He's going to be all right, but it was a close call.] 

"I'm on my way." 

[I think that would be for the best. He ... ] 

"What?" 

[The shrinks here have been trying to talk to him, asking him what's wrong. All he will do is rock himself and say your name.] 

"Oh God, sir, I don't know what ..." 

[Don't say anything. Fortunately, I got to the apartment before the cops. He left a note and I picked it up. No one's seen it but me. I think you should have it. I'm not giving it to the cops. I gave a statement saying he was under an enormous amount of stress on this latest case you were working on and he must have cracked under the strain. I gave his profiling background as a set up for it.] 

"Thank you, sir. I'm hanging up now. I'll be there in 20 minutes." 

[Don't rush, he isn't going anywhere. I'll stay here at least until you get here. I'll try to talk to him.] 

"Sir, but I appreciate it. I'll be there soon. If you need me before I get there, call me on my cell." 

[Until then.] She hung up the phone, grabbed her cell phone and practically ran into the foyer, yanking her trench coat on over her sweats and sweater. She was almost out the door when she retreated, grabbing her weapon and sticking it in her pocket along with her I.D. No sense going without credentials. 

* * *

* * *

**PART 1 (PG-13)**  
**D.C. COUNTY MORGUE**  
**FEBRUARY 27, 2001**  
**TUESDAY, 8:00 AM**  
**TWO DAYS EARLIER**

"Oh Christ! Noooooo!" Mulder exclaimed, when the medical examiner yanked the draw open. 

Scully watched as the color drained from his face and he staggered back from the drawer. "Mulder?!" 

He bent over double, one arm wrapped around his stomach, one hand over his mouth. He shook his head when she reached for him. His voice was ragged and in shock when he whispered, "Back in a minute. Bathroom. Sick." 

He made a bee-line for the door and half staggered into the hallway. Scully furrowed her brow as she watched her partner. Something was definitely wrong. Mulder didn't have the iron stomach she had, but he was rarely sick to his stomach over a corpse. She turned back to see the M.E., Dr. Halden Moore waiting patiently. "Dr. Scully?" 

"Yeah. Sorry." She approached him briskly. 

"Thought you FBI types had better guts than that, especially you guys who investigate homicides." 

"We do. I don't know what's wrong with my partner. Maybe he ate something bad." She rounded the side of the drawer and looked down and gasped. 

Dr. Moore looked at her, waiting. "What?" 

"I know what's wrong ... I think." 

"What?" 

She pointed at the woman's hair. It was a soft shade of red, nearly identical to hers. The woman's face could not be discerned with any accuracy. The bruising and swelling was ferocious, distorting the woman's features. Scully's voice was calm and steady. "She looks like me." 

Dr. Moore gave her an odd look. "Not really. Can't really tell what she looks like, other than the hair." 

"That would be enough to upset my partner." 

"Ahhh, you two are ... close?" 

Scully smirked. "Not the way you think. But yes, we are good friends and he's always worried about me getting killed. I've come close quite a few times." 

"Don't envy you people your jobs, I'll tell you. What I see in this morgue is just about as deep as I want to go into the criminal world." 

Scully nodded. "When can I do the autopsy?" 

"Later today would be fine. It's what? 8:00 AM now? I have two exams to do myself and a meeting with the City Council, but I should have a bay open around 2:00 PM." 

"I could take the body to Quantico if that would be easier for you." 

"Nah, too much hassle. Not necessary. So I'll see you later today?" He sounded a little more hopeful than he should. Scully quirked a brow at him and he looked at the floor. 

"Yes, I'll return around 2:00 PM." 

Neither one heard Mulder reenter the room and stand just inside the doors, not approaching the drawer on the opposite wall where they stood. "So, Dr. Scully, would you ... uh, like to have dinner with me sometime?" 

She smiled gently at him. He was a nice looking man in his thirties, blonde hair, blue eyes, thin. He was only about 5' 8" but had a nice physique. Funny thing, she didn't go for blondes anymore. And she liked them taller. "I'm afraid not, Dr. Moore. But I'm flattered that you asked." 

"I guess you are ... closer to your partner than you said." 

"No, we're just friends, but ..." 

"But?" 

"Never mind." 

"Can't blame a guy for trying." 

"No, thanks though." 

She turned then and saw Mulder. He was still pale and his hair was damp as though he'd run wet hands through it. His lips were pressed into a thin line and he was starring daggers at Dr. Moore. Scully hurried to his side. "Mulder! I didn't hear you come in. Are you O.K.? Did you get sick?" 

He nodded. "I'm fine." She smirked, hearing her own words of denial thrown back at her. She knew he wasn't fine. She touched his forearm and he flinched. 

"Mulder?" 

"Yes, I got sick, but I'm fine now. Can we get out of here?" 

"Yes." 

"You coming back to do the autopsy?" 

"Not until later." 

He nodded sharply. She turned to see Dr. Moore examining the tips of his shoes, obviously embarrassed to have not seen or heard Mulder reenter the room. "Dr. Scully?" 

Mulder answered. "What?" His tone was clipped and rude. 

"Mul..der! Stop it." He looked at her and then away. 

"Dr. Moore?" Scully inquired. 

"This woman, we don't have an identification, but D.C.P.D. identified her as a known hooker. They were going to search their records. They think she's been picked up before for ... soliciting. They were going to look up her record to ... to identify her." He kept glancing at Mulder and then away again. Obviously, Mulder's glare, which was back in full force had not abated. 

Then Mulder stunned both of them by saying quietly, his voice low and monotone, "Her name ... is Christina Bower. She's 27 years old, born in York, Pennsylvania. Her ... her current address is 34 ... 34 Kewl Street in Arlington. It's a ... little place above a bakery. Her folks still live in York. Tell the cops and they can look them up; Paul and Cindy Bower. 

He turned on his heel and crashed out through the swinging double doors for the second time in the last half an hour. He didn't look back. Dr. Moore just stared at Scully's pale countenance and said, "Well, I guess that clears that up." 

"I'll ... I'll see you later, Dr. Moore." She hurried after Mulder without looking back. What the hell was going on? How did he know this girl? A hooker? Please, please no, Mulder. Do NOT tell me you use hookers. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease. Was he going to leave without her? He could have any woman he wanted. Why would he go to a hooker? Her inner voice taunted her. He could have anyone but you. She shook her head to clear it. 

Her heart was slamming against her rib cage as she approached the car. To her surprise he was sitting in the passenger seat, staring blankly out the window at nothing. One knee was propped on the dash board, his elbow was perched on the raised knee and his knuckles were curled under his chin. He was wearing a grimace, his jaw muscle twitching. She wasn't sure if he was angry, upset or if he was trying not to cry. She approached slowly, now that she knew he hadn't taken off without her. She opened the drivers' side door and slide into the driver's seat. 

She put her forehead on the steering wheel briefly and then sighed loudly, leaning back and tipping her head against the backrest and then looking at the ceiling. She congratulated herself on how calm her voice was. 

"Are you going to tell me what that was all about?" 

He was silent a moment and then said. "Not if I can help it." 

She huffed a sound of indignation from the back of her throat. "Obviously, you knew her well, Mulder." 

He said nothing, still staring out the window. 

"Was she a friend?" She knew that was a stupid question, but she had to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

He surprised her when he said, "Yes, she was. Or the closest thing I ever get to having a friend, ... except for you." 

Scully swallowed harshly. O.K., so she was a friend, or at least an acquaintance. That explained his upset when he saw her. She wondered how he could be sure it was her when her face was so mangled. He'd never mentioned a female friend. 

Then she remembered. Must be the hair. THE HAIR! It was the exact shape and cut as hers, turned under on the bottom, and nearly the same shade. There had to be a connection, but right now she didn't want to think about it. The implications were staggering. And the only scenarios she was coming up with at the moment were turning her stomach. 

"Drive, Scully. Take me back to the office." 

She nodded, unsure just how much she wanted to know. She would do the autopsy this afternoon and then she would know more, about the girl at least. This case had been hell from the word go. 'Christina' was the seventh girl to turn up dead in the D.C. area in as many weeks. The killer was taunting all the investigators, them and the D.C. cops alike. He was leaving notes on the bodies. They would just about get a clue or see a pattern and he would change it. He always seemed to be one step ahead of them. 

Pressure was on from Mayor to solve this one. People were beginning to panic. The girls were all raped and atrociously beaten. All the women were tiny, 5'5" tall or under. The media was calling him the Lolita Snatcher. Catchy, huh? Yak. 

The drive to work was silent, the tension building by the minute. Scully pulled into the parking garage and parked in their reserved space. She shut off the engine, but made no attempt to get out. "What... how do you know her, Mulder?" 

He sighed. "It's a long story and one I don't feel like sharing right now." 

"Will you feel like sharing it later?" 

"Probably not." 

"She's a murder victim, Mulder! We have to talk about her! I know how hard that will be if she was a friend, talking about her like she is just another victim, but we are no closer to catching this guy than we were two months ago! Damn it, there has to be a connection!" 

He was silent. "I've been trying to find one, Scully." His tone was patronizing. "But as usual, I'm failing ... again! I don't need you to point that out to me!" 

"That's not what I meant and you know it! Damn it! Why do you have to be so sensitive? Why do you automatically think everything is your fault?! It's not! Get over yourself, Mulder, you are NOT THAT IMPORTANT that everything is YOUR FAULT." Her voice was rising steadily with her frustration. 

"Get over myself? Get over myself?!" He barked out a sarcastic huff of laughter. "O.K., AGENT Scully. I'll get over myself. In fact, I'm requesting that I be taken off this case." 

He yanked the door handle and jumped out of the car. She hastily followed, nearly running to catch up with him as he strode to the elevator, his long legs easily outdistancing her. "Damn it! Mulder, stop!" 

He stabbed the button and stared at the door, a scowl on his face. She caught up to him since he had to wait. "Mulder, I didn't mean it that way! I'm sorry. I'm just frustrated. I shouldn't have taken it out on you." 

He didn't even acknowledge her. She grasped his forearm with her hand. His reaction was immediate and violent. "Just let me go, Scully!" he shouted. 

He whipped his arm backwards, dislodging her arm. If she hadn't ducked, he would have hit her right in the face. What the hell was wrong with him?! 

"Mulder, talk to me! Please!" 

He turned suddenly and peered down at her an ugly, sarcastic smile on his face. "No. Not this time. Sorry, Scully. I need to pick up a few things and go home ... so I can GET OVER MYSELF!" 

Tears sprung up behind her eyes as the doors slid open and he turned away and stepped inside. She launched herself in after him. "Mu...Mulder, please! Don't be like this. I said I was sorry!" 

He pressed the button for the basement and leaned against the back wall of the elevator and crossed his arms over his chest. He stared at the door, as if she wasn't there. 

Scully began to cry. "Jesus, Mulder. What could be so bad that you can't tell me about it! I'm your friend for God's sake! Don't push me away. Whatever it is ... " 

He turned to her slowly and she stopped talking. His eyes tracked the tears that were plowing a path down her face and he winced slightly. But then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and said, "I need some time." 

His eyes were boring holes into her head. She shivered under his intense regard. He was ready to snap and she had no idea why. And he wasn't talking. "Later then?" she asked, cursing herself for the squeak that emerged, and the fresh gush of tears. She swiped her eyes with her sleeve and looked at the floor. 

She heard him chuff the air out of his lungs and mutter under his breath, "Damn it!" 

He put his hands on her shoulders and her head snapped up in response. He shook his head, biting his bottom lip hard. "I'm sorry, Scully. Don't cry. This isn't ... this isn't about you. Well, it is but it isn't. I need to think. Can you give me some time?" 

She nodded vigorously, swiping her tears again and sniffling them back under control. She murmured, "I'm going to go to the police department and go over their files again, then go do the autopsy." 

He nodded. The car stopped and the doors slid open. He walked out and turned at the last minute. "I'll see you later, Scully." And he walked away as the door slid shut again. 

Scully felt an awful heaviness settle in her chest. Something was very wrong and she was going to get to the bottom of it, with or without his cooperation. There was more here than met the eye. 

* * *

OHMYGOD! Fox Mulder slumped into his office chair and put his head in his hands. What the hell was he going to do now? His thoughts were racing and he still felt vaguely nauseous. 

Christina ... Poor kid. Was the killer targeting people he knew now? Was that a warning? That Scully could be next? God, she may not think everything was his fault, but this one definitely was. He couldn't explain why though without telling the whole story, and that, he had no intention of doing. 

He might lose her over this anyway. Scully was like a dog with a bone, particularly when she thought he was hiding something from her. And this time, she KNEW he was hiding something from her. He shouldn't have given that information in front of Scully. He should have called Holden, Homer, whatever, later and told him. 

He'd felt a stab of jealousy he had no right to feel when the little twerp had asked her to dinner. He'd sighed in relief when she'd turned him down. He'd obviously asked about their relationship, judging by his comments. 

We're just friends, she'd said. We're just friends. We're just friends. Yes, that's all they would ever be. And he couldn't accept it. He couldn't move on, and his obsession had grown. He thought about her day and night. He'd sat outside her apartment and looked up at her lighted windows. He'd followed her whenever he thought she might have a date. He knew this was obsessive/compulsive behavior. He knew it wasn't healthy. He knew she'd kill him if she ever caught him. 

But he couldn't stop. He wasn't even sure when it started, but he'd been... stalking her for about a year, until about one year ago. That's when Christina had come into his life. And everything had changed. She wasn't Scully. She would never be Scully and she knew that. But she'd been willing to spend time with him ... and pretend. He'd been vulnerable and she'd been willing. And he'd taken advantage. It had gotten out of hand. He could see that now. 

And now the poor kid was dead. Because of him. The killer must have seen them together. Maybe he'd thought she was Scully. That was a frightening thought. He felt guilty that he wasn't more upset over Christina's death. He was upset. But it might also be a good thing. Not for her, obviously, but for him. He did care for her, but he didn't love her. She'd been in love with him though, he knew it, and never acknowledged it. And she'd been so smitten, she'd let him play this sick game and never complained. 

He'd been trying to help her to get off the streets. They'd been setting up a plan to nab her pimp and take him down. Then she could leave the streets without fear of reprisal. But he hadn't moved fast enough. He'd been afraid to do it himself and talking to the police was tricky. He had to come up with story about how he got his information without letting on that he was one of Christina's regular customers. He hadn't come up with a plausible story yet. 

And now she was dead. He was too late. Again. 

He felt a cold weariness settling into his bones. He picked up his briefcase, threw a couple other files into it off the pile on his desk and left, shutting off the light behind him. He whispered into the dark office before he left. "Oh God, Scully, I hope we survive this one." 

* * *

**FEBRUARY 27, 2001**  
**TUESDAY, 2:00 AM**  
**D.C. COUNTY MORGUE**

Scully did her external exam, recording her findings into the microphone above her head. 

"Victim is a female, age 25-35. Um, an ... acquaintance tells us she is 26 years old and her name is Christina Bower. Lacerations and facial swelling make sight identification difficult. Victim is 5' 3" tall, weighing 135 pounds. External exam reveals dried blood on the face and neck of the victim. One inch lacerations are placed symmetrically apart around the neck. These lacerations, however are not the cause of death. They are not even deep enough to reach the subcutaneous layer of skin. They would have bled profusely, however, giving the victim the appearance of a ... 'blood necklace', for lack of a better description. 

"Despite shallow stab wounds over the body, the cause of death appears to be blunt trauma to the spine. I've been told the spine is obviously fractured, partial vertebra fragments piercing the skin of the thoracic spine on the victim's posterior side. Bits of wood splinters are also embedded in the skin, indicating perhaps, the victim was beaten with a tree branch or a baseball bat. Analysis of the wood should tell us whether it is processed and therefore from a baseball bat, or whether it is from a tree. 

"I suspect that the fractured spine severed the aorta in some location and the victim bled out. I will know more after doing an a posterior exam of the victim and an internal exploratory." 

She thought to herself, this is going to be a long one. It's going to take me 45 minutes just to catalogue the external injuries and bag all the scrapings for the lab. I'm going to have to scrape every stab wound for trace evidence, saliva, hair or fingernail debris. 

She continued with her external exam, tagging and bagging all the scrapings from the multiple stab wounds and recording the size and location of the bruises and wounds. She cringed slightly when she brought out the rape kit and retrieved the evidence for that from the woman's vagina. It was lacerated as well, as though something sharp had been inserted. She cringed inwardly imagining the way this girl died, in such tremendous pain. 

She recorded again. "Going to turn the body now to examine the posterior side of the victim ... and ... OHMYGOD!" Her exclamation slipped out without her thinking. She reached up and turned off the recorder, bringing the hand back down to cover her mouth. 

She swallowed convulsively, muttering to herself. "How did she ... why did she get this? What? Oh my God, MULDER! Holy Shit. Holy Shit. Holy Shit." 

She turned the recorder back on and rewound to cover her exclamation. She spoke steadily but softly. "The victim has an identifying tattoo above her left hip, midway between her spine and waist. The tattoo is of a ... a snake ... eating it's tail." She shut the recorder off again and ripped her gloves off. She walked to the counter next to the wall and gripped the edge until her knuckles turned white. 

Softly, she said to the empty room. "Oh God, Mulder, what did you do? This is even worse than what I imagined." 

She took a deep breath, stealing herself to examine the rest of the body. Three hours later she finally finished weighing the internal organs and confirming the trauma to the spine as the cause of death. She was weary beyond belief. 

Her back and feet ached. She had a monster headache. She replaced the body in the refrigerated drawer after sewing her back up. She asked the corpse, "What did you mean to him? I wish you could talk to me." She closed the drawer and went to clean up, her mind whirling at the implications. The woman's hair was nearly identical to hers. The woman's tattoo WAS identical to hers and in the same place. She was only one inch taller. She couldn't picture her face, but she had a good idea. She looked in the mirror over the sink as she scrubbed her hands with bacterial soap. Tears stung her eyes again. "What do I do now?" she whispered. 

* * *

**FOX MULDER'S APARTMENT**  
**FEBRUARY 27, 2001**  
7:00 PM 

I can't stand it. I better go over there before the cops get to it. He grabbed his leather jacket and keys and went out the door. He was pulling away from the curb and never saw Scully round the corner and head into his building. 

* * *

**34 KEWL STREET**  
**ARLINGTON, VA**  
7:15 PM 

He pulled up to the sidewalk outside the bakery on Kewl Street. He sighed deeply, exiting the car and raising his eyes to the second story windows. The street was peaceful as if mocking the violence of the world. He made his way slowly to the stairs that ran up the outside of the building in the alleyway next to the bakery. At the landing, one story up, he pulled out his keys and rifled through them, finally settling on one and sliding it into the lock. 

He closed the door behind him and leaned against the door. He made a circuit of the apartment, closing all the shades, letting the street lights illuminate his way. He walked into the bedroom and flipped on the light. He looked around and swallowed the lump in his throat. He talked to the empty room. "Oh, Christina, I did so wrong by you. How did it ever get this tangled? This messed up?" 

He walked to the dresser and picked up the small 4 X 6 frame with his picture in it. He smiled a sad smile, setting it back down. He went to the tiny efficiency kitchen and retrieved a shopping bag from under the sink. He returned and placed the photo in the bag. He opened her jewelry box and removed several pieces, throwing them haphazardly into the bag. Then he moved to the closet. He stood staring at the rows of dresses and suits for a long time. He picked one up and stuck his nose into it, smelling her. White Shoulders was the name of the perfume. She always wore it for him. He saw an empty box in the bottom of the closet and pulled it out. It had two diaries in it along with a blanket and some other items. 

He dumped them out onto the floor and put the diaries back in. No need to read them now, but he'd bet money he was mentioned in them and didn't want to leave them behind. He needed to try and remove all traces of himself from this apartment. It was enough that he knew her name. That was going to raise some eyebrows if Dr. Moore mentioned where he got his information from. He didn't need them finding his shit all over the place in here. And now that they had this address, they were going to come here. He needed to talk to Gary Hoyt, the landlord too. 

He pulled all four suits and several dresses that he had given her from the closet and stuffed them in the bag. He realized he would need more room, so he went and got another bag and returned. He rifled through all her dresser drawers and made a circuit of the apartment, picking up anything that might point the police to him. He opened a hutch in the living area and found some cards that he had given her on various occasions and holidays and plucked them up too. God, she never even knew his real name. 

He was fighting the tears when there was a knock on the door. He nearly jumped out of his skin. He went to the door and peered through the peephole and let out a sigh of relief. It was Gary. He opened the door, nodding to the landlord. 

"Hey, George," the man greeted Mulder. "I saw your car outside." 

"Hey Gary. Listen, I need to speak with you, come in." He moved back as the man entered the apartment. They sat on the couch. 

"I'm so sorry, George. I saw the whole thing on the news." 

"Yeah, I was so close to getting her off the street." 

"God Bless you for trying." Mulder bit his lip with self loathing. If this guy only knew. God was never going to bless him. Maybe the devil, if either one existed. But not God. 

"This ... situation is going to get sticky." 

"Because it was the Lolita Snatcher that got her?" 

Mulder winced at the name. "Yeah. Listen, I need to terminate the lease here. And I will give you the next four months rent that would pay out the lease. But I would appreciate it if you didn't mention it to anyone, even the cops that I held the lease on this place. Could you say it was Christina's lease?" 

Gary looked at him odd. "You're a cop, huh?" 

"Yes." 

"Wouldn't look too good to have you connected with her, right?" 

"Exactly. Listen, Gary, I know I'm a jerk for asking this of you, but it could ruin me ... in more ways than one. I mean no disrespect to Christina." 

"I know son. Poor kid never got a break though. You, though, you were her knight in shining armor." 

Mulder laughed mirthlessly. "More like her downfall." 

"Nonsense. That girl was in love with you and you were the only person in her life who ever treated her decent. She appreciated it, let me tell you. Talked about you all the time. And God knows who's in the right, you know? You did a good thing by this girl and that's what matters, not that anybody knew about it. For that matter, the fact that you never bragged about it sets well with me. You never looked for anything in return." 

Mulder felt sick. He'd asked for a lot in return. Even Christina had never realized how much. She'd paid dearly and in spades. 

And now she was dead. His fault. 

"Yeah, I know." He swallowed. "I'm just getting a few of my things out of here." He paused. "So about the lease?" 

"Consider it done, lad. I'll even make up a fake lease if you want." 

"No, Gary, that won't be necessary. I don't think they'll ask to see it anyway. I just don't want my name mentioned." 

"You got it. Will I ever see you again ... now that she... is gone." 

"I don't know, Gary. I'll stop by the bakery now and again and say hi, but it might be a while." 

"To be sure, lad. I understand." 

"The police will be contacting her parents. I don't think they knew what she ... did for a living." 

"I won't be the one to tell them, but the police, well, who knows about those fellas." 

Mulder nodded. "You were a good friend to her Gary. I'm sure she'll remember you to the big guy." 

The old man smiled at that comment. "I'll see you round, Gary." 

"Yeah, lad, see you round. Good luck." 

"Thanks." The old man stood and Mulder fished in his pocket and held up the key. "I won't need this anymore, Gary." 

The old man took the key and put it in his pocket. "Well, that's it then." 

"Yeah." 

"See you round, lad." And he left, quietly closing the door behind him. 

Mulder leaned back on the couch and felt the sorrow wash over him. "I'm so sorry, Christina. God, I'm so sorry." He fell sideways on the couch, his eyes squeezed shut. He let the tears come. His shoulders shook. The darkened room was the only witness to his grief. 

* * *

**FOX MULDER'S APARTMENT**  
**FEBRUARY 27, 2001**  
7:00 PM 

She knocked on the door but got no answer. "Mulder, open up!" 

Silence. She rapped on the door again, the brass numbers 42 bouncing against the door. "Mulder, I need to talk to you ... I have ... some autopsy results." 

Nothing. She pulled out her key and slid it in the lock. Screw him. If he was going to be an ass, then she would just shake things out of him. There were too many questions to be answered. She didn't know whether to be angry. But she did know that she was overwhelmed and confused. That was for sure. Two emotions she did not like feeling. 

The apartment was dark when she slipped inside but that was nothing new. He often sat in the dark. The TV was dark too and that wasn't normal. She made a circuit of the apartment, reassuring herself that he wasn't there. She spied a couple of photos laying on the coffee table and picked them up. 

One was of her. She remembered the photo. Her mother had taken it of her in the back yard at her mother's house. She'd been throwing a stick for the dog when her mother called. She was smiling a big smile, her hair air dried and wavy around her head. She'd been really happy that day. She wondered how Mulder had gotten a hold of it. Her mother had it in a frame on the piano last she knew. Mulder must have asked for it. 

She flipped the picture back onto the coffee table and looked at the other one. She stared hard at the photo. It was a woman with red hair cut like hers and blue eyes. Her hair was a tad longer than Scully's and a little lighter red. Her lips were a little thinner, and her face a little longer. But the resemblance was uncanny. She shuddered as she examined the photo, turning on the lamp on his desk to get a better look. 

The woman was leaning backwards slightly. The photo was taken from the side with the woman's head turned towards the camera. She was striking an obvious pose, blowing a kiss, her arms out from her body as if presenting herself to the person whom had taken the photo. She looked coy and carefree. 

This must be Christina. What was her relationship to Mulder? Was she really a hooker? She looked neat and buttoned down in the pale blue business suit she was wearing. The picture cut off at mid thigh so she couldn't see how long the skirt was or if she was wearing high heels. 

Were they lovers? Scully whimpered as a wave of indefinable emotion washed over her. What the hell was she feeling? Surprise? Revulsion? Jealousy? A combination of all three? 

Was he in love with this woman? Had this woman replaced her in Mulder's life? She felt sick. How could he do this? The resemblance could not be ignored. This woman looked more like her sister than ... her own sister! And the tattoo! What the hell? Had he asked her to get it? Had he taken her to get it? 

She absently turned the photo as she went to let her hand drop and saw writing on the back. She turned it over and read the message: "George, thought you would want a copy. Remember this day? One of the happiest we ever spent together. This suit you bought me, I still have it. I love it. I love you. I know you love her. I'm sorry I can never be HER. Love, Christina." 

She felt the bile rise up in her throat and threw the picture on his desk and bolted for the bathroom. After she threw up, she rinsed her mouth and flushed the toilet. She stood on shaky legs. Where could he have gone? To Christina's apartment? A bar? 

What was that address. 34 Kewl Street. That was only about ten blocks from here. She walked to the door and let herself out, appalled to find her hands shaking as she grabbed the door knob. She exited quickly and rode down the elevator, her mind in a frenzy. 

Jesus Christ! What did all this mean? Mulder had taken some woman and tried to turn her into ... UberScully. How fucking sick was that? What did it really mean? Was he really in love with her? Just because the woman wrote that didn't mean it was true. Maybe he just had sick, little fantasies about her and found some strumpet to play them out with. NO! He couldn't be that sick. Could he? What did that say about his mental health? 

If he had real feelings for her, not just sexual ones, why hadn't he ever said anything? A little voice in her ear played memories like an old tape. [I love you, Scully. {Oh Brother.} You're my one in five billion. You make me whole. I can't do this without you anymore. Get away from me, Scully, as fast as you can. Go practice medicine while you still can.] 

Oh God. He had said something, and more than once. I just wasn't listening. I didn't want to hear it, deal with the consequences, what it would all mean. NO! Do NOT feel sorry for him, Dana. Don't do it! He's a sick fuck. You always knew he was perverted, with all those videos that aren't his. Why are you surprised. 

I never thought he was THAT perverted. Oh God. How am I going to look him in the eye? How can we work together anymore? Her thoughts spun in this vein as she exited the building and headed around the block to where her car was parked. Before she reached the corner, she saw him pull up in front, and slide into his parking space. She darted around the corner, feeling silly for avoiding him, but she didn't want to talk to him right now. She peeked back around the corner and saw him emptying the trunk. He removed two large garbage bags, one in each hand. He slammed the trunk shut with his elbow and headed inside. His face was grim and set. He walked with purpose, veering away from the front of the building at the last moment and heading toward her. She darted across the street away from his building and pressed herself up against the wall of the building next to his. 

The alleyway was nearly black and she held her breath not wanting to make a sound. He approached the dumpster and sighed heavily as he set the bags down. He opened one and pulled out two small books and a photo, stuffing them inside his jacket. Then he retied the bag and opened the large dumpster. 

His face was cast in shadows, but a beam of light from a car headlight flashed in the alley, illuminating his face for a moment. He was looking at the sky and tears were poring down his face. He took a deep breath, sniffling back his tears and tossed the bags into the dumpster. He stood still, not moving for several seconds. 

He whispered, "I'm so sorry, Christina. You'll never know how sorry I am. I'm sorry about what I said to Gary. I'm sorry for what I let you both believe. I had to. I hope you understand." 

She had been able to hear his whispers. 'Who was Gary?' she wondered. 

He looked at the ground for a second and then said, "Good bye, baby." 

He turned and walked slowly out of the alley, his head hanging. Scully stood frozen against the wall. Her need to know was warring with her morals. Should she retrieve the bags? She knew it was wrong. He obviously wanted the stuff to disappear. She could always throw them out later, or burn them. She was justifying and she knew it. But damn! 

Baby?! He called her baby! She felt sick again. Why? Because he had a baby and it wasn't her? Or was it just that she couldn't believe he'd kept all this from her somehow. Taking a deep breath and moving before she could change her mind she hurried to the dumpster, flipping an egg crate over and jumping up on it to give her enough height to reach into the dumpster. 

She grabbed first one bag and then the other and tossed them over her shoulder, hoping nothing breakable was inside that would cause a noise. They landed with a soft thud, and she climbed down, retrieved the bags that were not as heavy as she thought they would be. They were awkward though. 

She hurried as fast as she could out of the alley and down the street to her car, sneaking looks over her shoulder to make sure he wasn't still outside. She set the bags down, unlocking and opening the passenger side door. The bags were tossed in, one on the seat, the other on the floor and hurried around to unlock the driver's side. Once seated, she slammed the door and nearly peeled out of her parking space, pulling a U-turn and heading back to Georgetown. 

* * *

* * *

**PART 2 ( R )**  
**HOOVER BUILDING**  
**FEBRUARY 28, 2001**  
2:00 PM 

This entire day had been hell. Mulder hadn't showed up and hadn't called. Skinner was barking at her because he was nowhere to be found. He wasn't answering his machine and he wasn't answering his cell phone. Scully had agreed to go over there tonight and look for him if he hadn't showed up by the end of the day. Only two more hours till quitting time and he still hadn't showed or checked in. 

Her emotions were in turmoil. The things in that bag had rocked her world. Clothing, jewelry, scarves, a bottle of her favorite perfume, White Shoulders. The dresses were more daring than anything she owned but they would fit her perfectly, not that she would ever try them on. The suits, though. They were exactly what she would buy for herself. Straight hem line skirts, fitted box jackets and silk blouses. They were all Elizabeth Arden, Donna Karen ... the good stuff. 

She didn't know what to do with her knowledge. She thought about donning one of the suits and some of the jewelry and showing up on his doorstep just to see what his reaction would be. She quickly erased that thought, knowing that, one, maybe he was cruel, but she couldn't be. And two, then he would know she'd watched him and retrieved his... garbage. She sighed again, resting her chin in her hands. 

I need help, she thought. But will they help me? Do the guys know about her? There was only one way to find out. She pulled out her cell phone, not wanting a call to the Gunmen to be logged in the FBI computers. 

It rang twice. [Byers.] 

"Hi, Byers, it's Scully." 

[Hey, Scully. What's up?] 

"I need your help." 

[What can we do for you today?] 

"Not the guys, just you." 

[Oh. This sounds serious.] 

"It is. Have you heard from Mulder in the last 24 hours?" 

[No. Why? Is he missing?] 

"I'm not sure yet. He ... we had a disturbing development in this case. I saw him, briefly, last night. But then I haven't seen him since. He's not answering his phones and he didn't show up for work today." 

[Are you worried?] 

"No, I'm angry, actually. But I'll get to that later. Can you meet me?" 

[Sure, where?] 

* * *

**A.D. SKINNER'S OFFICE**  
**HOOVER BUILDING**  
**FEBRUARY 28, 2001**  
2:15 PM 

Skinner hung up the phone and stood up. There was nothing more he can do now. That was Agent Scully. She was going to meet with some friends of Mulder's and see if she could track him down. If not, she was going to go look for him tonight. He suspected Mulder was home, just hiding out." 

He decided to take the autopsy report on Christina Bower home with him. This case just kept getting weirder and weirder. Mulder was messed up with this woman somehow, but he had not idea how deeply he was involved. Only time would tell. 

* * *

**ARLINGTON NATIONAL CEMETARY**  
**FEBRUARY 28, 2001**  
2:45 PM 

Byers walked a respectable distance from Dana but close enough to her low tones as she explained the case briefly and then explained about Christina Bower. Surprise was evident on his face, indicating that he was telling the truth when he said that he had known nothing about the girl. He did say that he couldn't speak for Frohike and Langley, but he doubted one of them would know something of this nature and not tell the others. Frohike would flip if he knew. 

Dana asked him not to say anything to him. She asked Byers to discreetly find out anything he could about Christina Bower. She also asked that he try to find out who 'Gary' was. She explained about the disturbing picture, the identical tattoo, and the fact that the picture was addressed to 'George'. She figured this woman probably knew him by his alias, George Hale. 

They parted after she thanked him in advance for his help and discretion. She called Mulder's home phone and his cell phone again before making the trip across town. He didn't answer. Not that she expected him to. 

She arrived at his apartment and knocked, entered with her key after getting no answer. He was not there. She saw the light flashing on the answering machine and knew that if he had returned, then he had not checked his messages. The read out read 18 messages. She rolled her eyes, locked up and decided to check out this apartment. The cops were going to check the place out tomorrow and she wanted to see it first. 

* * *

**34 KEWL STREET**  
**ARLINGTON, VA**  
4:45 PM 

Scully parked her car across the street from the bakery. She looked up at the windows on the second story, seeing that all the shades were drawn. She glanced around the street and saw his car and knew he was inside. She pulled out into traffic and parked around the block. If he looked out the window, she didn't want him to see her car and have time to bolt. 

She entered Hoyt's Bakery and the smell of cooked dough and cinnamon assaulted her nostrils. She inhaled deeply, loving the smells of a bakery. An old man, perhaps nearing seventy was behind a glass deli case. He was bending over with a dust pan and whisk broom, wiping a spill up off the floor. 

It was filled with all sorts of confections, including pies, cakes, fresh breads, cinnamon rolls. She figured this must be where Mulder got those delicious cinnamon rolls he brought for her to work. She cringed wondering if he'd often slept upstairs, stumbling out of that woman's bed in the morning and picking up cinnamon rolls for her before heading out to work. 

The old man stood up slowly from his stooped position and turned to greet her. His ruddy face drained of color and he staggered back against the wall. "Holy Mary Mother of God," he whispered. His hands pressed backwards into the wall to keep him braced and upright. 

Dana was instantly alarmed. "Sir, are you all right? I'm a doctor. Are you all right?" 

He took a steadying deep breath and continued to stare at her. "Sorry, missy. I thought ... never mind. I'm fine now." 

His color returned and Scully's eyes went wide as she realized that the girl upstairs, recently deceased, had bore an uncanny resemblance to her. She felt stupid for not thinking of it. If the girl lived upstairs, this man had to know her, by sight at least. 

He moved to where the counter was waist height and Scully followed along. She stuck out her hand and he shook it tentatively. "Can I help you, miss?" 

Scully smiled gently at him. "Sorry to give you a scare." 

He nodded. "You be lookin' for a pie or somethin'?" he asked. 

"No. She held up her badge. I'm Special Agent Dana Scully with the FBI. I'm part of a team investigating the recent murders by the serial killer." 

"The Lolita Snatcher?" 

Scully grimaced, hating the name as much as the rest of the cops. "Yeah, that would be the one." 

"Ah, so you'd be lookin' after Christina?" 

"She lived upstairs, correct?" 

"Yes." 

"Well, I'm looking for her landlord. Would you know who that might be?" 

He nodded sagely. "That would be me, lassy." 

"Ah, and your name is?" 

"Gary Hoyt." 

Bells went off as she realized that this must be the 'Gary' that Mulder had been talking about when he talked to himself last night. It was making more sense now. 

"And how long did Christina live here?" 

"A little over a year." 

"Ah, and do you happen to know if she had a job?" 

He swallowed harshly and gave her a sour look. "She worked for me sometimes." 

"Uh, huh. Enough to pay the rent?" He looked at the floor. "Look, Mr. Hoyt. I'm not out to get anybody in trouble her. She can hardly get in any more trouble, she's dead." 

"And don't I know it, lassy." He sounded angry. "Poor kid hardly ever got a break. I tried to help her as much as possible." 

"So are you saying that you cut her a break on the rent? Or you let her be late sometimes and didn't push for the money?" 

"Oh, no, her rent was always paid on time, usually a week early." He looked at the floor again, as if he'd realized he'd said something he shouldn't. 

"Sir, I don't mean to be harsh, but if you are withholding information you could be arrested for obstructing justice. I wouldn't want to do that, but you are obviously hiding something. I wish you would just save us both the trouble and let me know what it is." 

He pursed his lips as if trying to decide what to say or how much to say. She felt a flash of guilt for leaning on an old man, realizing that her interests were probably more personal than professional. She squashed the feeling, telling herself, these were questions the cops would ask anyway. 

He sighed. "She was a ... part time prostitute." 

"I know that." He nodded. "Part time?" 

"Well, yeah. She was trying to quit, but was having trouble with her pimp." 

"Ah, so he was harassing her into staying ... on the job, so to speak." 

"Exactly. She was trying to leave and only took a select few ... customers, just enough to keep her afloat. She was able to drop them all near the end." 

"How did she manage that?" 

"I'm not supposed to be telling this, lassy, you understand. I was sworn to secrecy." 

"Well, I understand your dilemma, Mr. Hoyt, but you never know when some tidbit of information may be valuable. It may seem insignificant to you, but help us a great deal. We are trying to find a connection between the victims, something that ties them together and makes them targets for the killer." 

"She had a friend." 

Scully felt the air become heavy and laden with tension. "Go on." 

"He was a good fella. Nice looking man. He took her under his wing. He was talking to the cops for her, trying to catch her pimp. He figured if he took the pimp down, then she could leave the streets without fear of retribution." 

"Oh, sounds like a noble man." Her sarcasm bled through. 

The old man gave her a slightly irritated look. "Yes, he is, as a matter of fact. He knew she was in trouble. He was the only one in the God forsaken child's life who was ever nice to her and tried to help her instead of use her. He paid ..." 

Scully's anger tore through her again. "Paid to get laid, Mr. Hoyt? Just like every other john on the street!" She was practically yelling, her bitterness coating her words. 

The old man tilted his head and smiled slightly, as if amused by her outburst. "Ahh, so I'm thinkin' there is more to this conversation than you be lettin' on, lass. Why so upset? Got something against the world's oldest profession?" He paused. "Other than the obvious, I mean." 

Scully took a deep breath and calmed herself. "I'm sorry," she muttered. 

He nodded. "No." 

"No?" 

"No, he did NOT pay to be with her." 

They stood in silence checking each other out for a while. She had to ask. She steeled herself. "He didn't?" 

Was it possible that this whole thing was a gigantic misunderstanding? Was it possible that Mulder had just been helping this girl? Was it possible that she looked like me and that was what had drawn him initially but then he spent his time trying to get her off the streets? It was something Mulder would do. He felt such guilt where she was concerned, over the things that had happened to her since they'd been partners. He thought everything was his fault. Perhaps he had thought that if he could save THIS girl, it would make up for some of it. 

Oh lord. Could she have been that wrong all along? No wonder he got angry and yelled at her and pushed her away! If he was just trying to help her and now she was dead, it would be another straw on the camel's back of his enormous load of guilt. He would feel as though he failed again in redeeming himself. Because that's what it was with him. He was looking for redemption. It was almost as if he wanted to be punished for his perceived inadequacies. 

The man was silent. "That may have been how they met initially, but I know she never thought of him as a customer after that." 

"What did she think of him as? Her boyfriend?" 

"More like her savior." 

She swallowed. "One more question, sir." 

"Yes?" 

"What was the man's name?" 

"I don't think I need to be tellin' ya that, lass." 

"Why not?" 

"Because it won't help your case, he can't help her anymore. And besides, I think the man has a ... job in which it would not be ... advantageous to be connected with my Christina. People can be real ignorant about these things, ya know?" 

She wasn't sure if that last statement was aimed at her or not. Her voice came out as a whisper. "Please ... Mr. Hoyt. I ... HAVE... to know." 

He looked at her oddly again. "You be thinkin' this savior of Christina's is someone you know?" 

"Yeah." 

"Is he YOUR boyfriend?" 

"No." 

"Then why would you care?" 

Tough old bastard, she thought. It would not be easy to get anything out of him that he didn't want to give. 

"I think it's my partner." 

"Your FBI partner?" 

"Yes." 

"Well ...he is ..." 

"What?" 

"He is a cop of some sort, although I thought he was a regular cop, not FBI." 

Scully was losing her composure for no particular reason. She was so frustrated and she knew he was upstairs. She wanted to scream at this old man but that would get her nowhere. Why DID she need to know so badly? Because this was about her. 

God, how narcissistic was that? How many times had she told Mulder that not everything was about him? And here she was assuming that because the girl resembled her, that this was all about her. Maybe she had read WAY too much into it. 

NO! The damn woman had a tattoo identical to hers! It had to be connected to her. 

"How well did you know Christina?" 

"Pretty well. I was sort of a father figure to her." 

"Would you know if she had a birthmark or a tattoo." 

His laugh cackled out over the bakery. "Are you thinkin' that maybe me and me old equipment had a go at her?! He, he, he, he, he." 

Scully laughed in spite of herself. "No, I wasn't implying that, I just ..." 

"Yes, she had a tattoo on her back. She'd got it about four months ago." 

Scully removed her trench coat and laid it on the counter. She removed her box jacket as he eyed her suspiciously. She began to pull her blouse out of her skirt. 

"Hey, hey, lass, what are you doin? I'm way past the point of being het up over a wee strip tease!" 

She gave him a glare and he subsided, watching her carefully. When her blouse was hanging around her waist, she turned her back to him. She took a deep breath and lifted her blouse up. She knew her tattoo would be visible above her skirt. 

She heard him gasp in surprise and murmur, "Jesus, what would be up with that do ya 'spose?" 

Having made her point, she dropped her blouse and tucked it back in, slowly donning her suit jacket and trench coat. She finally met his gaze, her face somber. 

"If I want you to shoot straight with me, Mr. Hoyt, I guess I should shoot straight with you." 

He nodded, swallowing. "So you have the same tattoo. What's that mean?" 

Scully tilted her head. She didn't want to imply that he was simple. After all, she was probably still just as confused as he was now. 

"When I walked in here, you looked like you'd seen a ghost. You seem to have gotten over that now, but obviously the resemblance between myself and Christina did not escape you.' 

"No, now it didn't." 

"I think ... that my partner tried ... to make Christina... look like me." 

"Why would he do that?" 

"I'm not sure ... unless he thought that ... he couldn't have me ..." 

"But he could have her," he finished her sentence for her. Scully nodded. "Could be," was all he said. When she said nothing more. "Why would this be such a bad thing?" 

He continued. "Christina was no angel, I know that. But she was a good girl. Her heart was pure. She did what she had to do to survive. If what you seem to think is true, then ... maybe he did you a favor." 

"A favor?" 

"He kept your dignity and reputation in tact. Christina was already tarnished. No being a cucumber again after you've been a pickle, so to speak." He was talking softly now. 

"What are you saying?" 

"Well, I'll be assuming that you are upset if what you're surmising is true." 

"Why wouldn't I be? If he had feelings for me, why didn't he just tell me?" 

"Maybe they weren't the kind of feelings he thought you would appreciate." 

"What do you mean by that?" 

"I mean ... that maybe he was attracted to you ... physically, but ..." 

"Not in any other way." Scully sounded totally defeated, even to her own ears. 

"Maybe. If that were true, and he was aware of it, he wouldn't want to ... disrespect you ... by making you aware of his ... attraction." 

"Fantasies, you mean?" 

"Whatever. It might be out of respect." 

"Out of respect, he takes a hooker and tries to make her into me?" 

"No. Into the image of you. The part of you that ..." 

"He liked." 

"Or I could be completely wrong. If he did ... love you... what would happen had he made you aware of those feelings?" 

She felt the sting of tears at the back of her eyes and blinked rapidly to hold them in check. "I'm not sure." 

"Would you have returned those feelings?" 

"I'm not sure." 

"Would it have ruined your partnership, your working relationship?" 

"I'm not sure." 

"Do you love him?" 

"I'm ... not sure." 

"Seems to me, lassy, that you're NOT SURE about a lot of things. Maybe you ought to be figurin' out what you want before you go pointing a finger at him." 

She was silent. "Maybe you're right." 

"You know what they say about pointing the finger, don't ya now?" 

"No, what?" 

"Whenever you point the finger, " he stuck his index finger out to point at her, "there's always three fingers pointin' back at you." 

Scully felt a tear scald the side of her cheek and wiped it hastily away. Tough old bastard was turning out to be a wise old bastard as well, damn him. "I would like to look upstairs before the police get here." 

"He's already cleaned the place out of anything that was... incriminating." 

"I know, but I still want to see it." 

"Why, so you can upset yourself with images of him being there with her?" 

"What the hell business is it of yours?!" She nearly shouted at him. 

"It's my business, lassy, because I own this building and I'll let in just who I see fit. Now, I've already told you more than I should have. Don't be getin' all persnickety with me." 

"You're right. I'm sorry." She paused. "I saw his car outside." 

"Ahh, so you know he's up there." 

"Yes." 

"I let him back in last night after he handed in his key. He's up there. And you still want to go up there?" 

"Yes." 

"Well, let me let him know you're here." 

"No!" He looked at her, waiting. "He'll run. He's been avoiding me for the last day or so." 

"Well, I suppose this is no longer my problem. George is a good guy though. Whatever the situation is, you should give him a chance to explain." 

She nodded. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Hoyt. I appreciate it." 

"And lass?" 

"Yes?" 

"You should tell him you're in love with him." 

"I never said that! What would make you think ..." 

He cut her off, chuckling and waving a hand at her in a dismissing gesture. "Ah, you yougin's are so obtuse these days. Don't even know your own hearts. It's a sad state of affairs, I'm thinkin'." 

Scully looked at him. "Good bye, Mr. Hoyt." 

"Good-bye." 

She turned on her heel and left. Three fingers pointing back at you, don't know your own heart, maybe it was out of respect, do you love him? Shit, shit, shit! She did not need to be figuring this all out right now. They had a case to solve. She was getting more involved personally and more upset by the minute. In the meanwhile, there was a vicious killer on the loose. And she wasn't going to catch him all by herself. She needed Mulder. She hated to admit it, but she needed him on this one. Hell, she needed him on all of them. 

She took a deep breath, steeling herself for this confrontation. She needed answers and she needed them now. She could figure out her own heart later. She wasn't the one that had been misleading. 

Had he been misleading? Or had he just kept it from her? Didn't matter. He'd made a girl look like her, he had some sort of relationship with her.  >From what Mr. Hoyt said, they were lovers ... 

Another roll of nausea turned her stomach over. It didn't matter. It didn't matter that Mulder had a lover. It mattered that he had made that lover look like her. She had to concentrate on the salient facts here and not let her mind wander into other territory. 

She bravely took the stairs and stood outside the door. She glanced at the street and saw that his car was still there. She stood there for several moments trying to steel herself for whatever she was going to see. She raised her hand to knock and Mulder flung open the door and brought his weapon down to bear on her. She raised her hands instinctively and backed away, knocking into the railing and wincing. 

He registered that it was her and dropped his gun immediately. He did not look happy to see her. He nearly growled at her. "What the hell are you doing here, Scully?" 

His immediate hostility fueled her anger and she felt it flare again. "I'm looking for YOU. Skinner has actually sent me LOOKING for you, AGAIN, because you aren't answering your phones and don't have the decency to return his calls ... or mine!" She shouted again. "Damn it, Mulder, you can't just disappear on people like this! We have a killer to catch!" 

His voice was low and cold and she felt a shiver crawl up her spine, and not the good kind. "I told you that I was requesting that I be taken off this case. I left the paperwork with Kimberly late last night." 

"Yeah, well, Skinner didn't mention that, so maybe he didn't get it today. Maybe Kimberly forgot or maybe ... did it ever occur to you that he would want to discuss your decision to fly the coop and quit in the middle of an intensive investigation?!" Her voice was high and strident. She hated it when it was like that. It almost hurt her ears. 

He winced as well and kept looking at her. His eyes were dark and unreadable. She felt a dart of fear as she realized that the connection they usually had wasn't there right now. They were two strangers, standing in a doorway, arguing. "What do you want me to do, Scully?" 

He sounded bored. "I want you to call Skinner! I want you to talk to me! I want you to explain this to me, tell me what's wrong. I want you tell me what your relationship with this woman was! I want, I want, I want..." 

She was starting to get hysterical. God, where was he? Where was the Mulder she knew? The compassionate man that couldn't stand to see her cry? The one who risked life and limb for her and was always there when she needed him? He was nowhere to be found now. His cold, dark eyes stared at her, his face showing no emotion, revealing nothing. 

His voice was lazy and calm and maddening. "You couldn't reach me because I wasn't home. I spent the night here and I left my cell phone behind. I didn't want to be disturbed." 

"You could have just told us that you wanted a day off instead of disappearing!" 

"Would you have let me go without any questions?" 

"I would have ... no, probably not," she admitted. 

"Exactly. And I needed to be alone and I needed for no one to ask questions right now." 

"Answer me one question before I go." 

"What?" 

"George!" she spat the name of his alias, George Hale at her. He winced slightly, but that was his only reaction. "Would you at least tell me why the HELL this ... this WOMAN, had a DAMN TATTOO JUST LIKE MINE!" She screeched the last part and he winced again. 

She met his gaze and he closed his eyes, his jaw muscle twitching. When he opened them, they were suspiciously wet. It was the first indication that he was feeling anything and she was glad if she'd hurt him. Because he had certainly hurt her. She didn't even know how much this story would hurt her. But he'd hurt her the worst possible way already. He'd lied to her and he'd withheld things from her; emotional, important things. 

Her inner voice said to her, 'And you haven't?' 

Shut up! This was not about me! 

'Just a minute ago it was all about you.' 

Shut up! Him. Him. Focus on him. 

He swallowed and finally said, "We need to talk." 

"No shit. That's the understatement of the century." 

His lips almost turned up at the corners at that comment. "Not here." 

"Why not here? Yes, right here. Right now!" 

"No, at my place." He backed up a step and shut the door right in her face. 

She lunged for the knob, twisting it furiously and finding it locked. "Mulder, you bastard, open this door right now!" 

She heard some shuffling and then the bolt being slid from inside. He opened the door and nearly plowed her over exiting the door. He turned to block her access and shut the door behind him. 

"Mulder! What the hell? Why can't I see inside? The police are going to be here tomorrow anyway." 

He looked at her, his blank mask back in place. "Then leave it untouched for one more day." He sounded so sad suddenly and Scully felt a lump form in her throat. 

No matter what the story was, he obviously felt something for this girl, and now she was dead. She'd been so wrapped up in uncovering his scam that it hadn't even occurred to her that he was grieving. Oh my God. He was grieving for her. She could see it now in his face. He was trying to shut it off behind the mask, but she could see it peeking through his eyes. 

"O.K." she said softly. "Well talk at your place, but go straight there, no funny business. We're talking tonight." 

* * *

* * *

**PART 3 (NC-17)**  
**FOX MULDER'S APARTMENT**  
**FEBRUARY 28, 2001**  
6:00 PM 

They exited their cars after parking and went into his building. The silence was deafening, both lost in their own thoughts, yet feeling the tension build. 

Once inside, Mulder turned and asked, "Have you eaten?" 

"No." 

"Want to order Chinese or Tai?" 

"Sure, whatever." 

He walked to phone and shook his head when he saw the blinking light and the LED displaying that he had 18 messages. He picked up the phone and dialed and placed an order for Shrimp and Cashews, Pork Fried Rice, Two egg rolls and General Tso's chicken. After he hung up, he went into the kitchen and returned with two glasses of orange juice. 

"Take your coat off, get comfortable," he said. His tone was as if nothing was amiss. He picked up the phone and dialed again. She watched him, waiting. 

Then, "Sir, its Mulder." 

He cringed and pulled the receiver away from his ear. Skinner must have bellowed into his ear. She couldn't help the little smirk that graced her lips for a second. 

He put the receiver back to his ear. "I'm sorry. I'll be back tomorrow. Just, ... I can't explain right now." 

Pause. 

"Yes, Agent Scully is here now. We're going to talk ... uh, go over the case. I'll see you tomorrow." 

"Yes, sir. I will." 

He hung up. Scully was seated on the couch and he remained standing for a moment and then he sat in his desk chair. She felt sadness engulf her. He was keeping the distance. "Mulder, come sit over here." 

"No, not now." 

She sighed heavily, trying to beat back the sadness. She was trying to find the anger again. It was cleansing and kept her from the other feelings that were sure to tear her apart if she ever let them go from her tight fisted grip. She was having trouble finding it. She was so confused and she wanted answers. 

He looked at the desk and saw the picture that Scully had thrown there. She'd forgotten to replace it on the coffee table! Shit! He picked it up, gently swiping his thumb over it in a tender gesture. He set it down gently and turned to her. He pulled his wallet out and threw $25 on the coffee table. 

"I need to use the bathroom," he announced abruptly and stood and left the room. She sighed and sipped on her orange juice. He knew she'd been in here and seen the picture. He was in there a long time. Finally she stood and approached the bathroom door. 

"Mulder." 

"I'll be right out." 

"Are you O.K.?" 

He laughed a sad, ironic laugh. "No, I'll never really be all right again ... but yes, I'm O.K. I'll be out in a minute." 

She was going to ask him to come out when the doorbell rang. She answered the door and paid for the food, returning to the table. She hollered, "Food's here, Mulder." 

He returned to the room, his eyes red rimmed, but his face composed. He grabbed some paper plates and utensils from the kitchen and returned, handing them to her. He dished up his food and returned to the desk, setting his food down there to eat. 

"Mulder." 

"Let's eat first, O.K.?" 

She nodded. They ate in silence. In a very short time, Scully had lost her appetite and nearly threw her plate onto the coffee table. She leaned back on the couch, a huge frown on her face. 

Mulder looked at her and sighed. He put his fork down and walked over to stand in front of the couch, in front of her. She looked up, unable to keep the sadness, hurt and confusion off her face. She knew he was seeing it all and suddenly didn't care. Wasn't that strange. She usually felt a need to hide it from him. But this time, she wanted him to know that she was hurt. She was angry, but more than that, she was realizing that she didn't know him at all. That she was ... losing him. And that thought scared the shit out of her. 

He held out his hand and she placed hers in it. He tugged gently and she stood, looking up at him expectantly. "I've made a decision." His tone was grim. 

"What's that?" she asked quietly. 

"I'm going to tell you everything." 

She sighed with relief and smiled at him, a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless. He did not return it. In fact, he frowned. 

"Don't be happy about it, you're not going to like this story, Scully. And when it's through, I predict that you will walk out that door and never want to lay eyes on me again." 

"Is it that bad?" 

"Yes," he said without hesitation. Her heart sunk. She couldn't imagine him with another woman, yet, she couldn't imagine him with her. And, she couldn't imagine walking out on him, not totally. 

"Well, maybe you underestimate me." 

He did smile then, a knowing smirk. "Not this time." The certainty in his voice caused a trickle of fear. 

He went on, still holding her hand lightly. "You're not going to let this go. It may come out in the coarse of the investigation or not, but I know you won't let it go until you have some answers. You're not willing to let his go are you? You're not willing to just ... accept my word that I never meant to harm you and file it away as one of Mulder's mysteries that is better left dead." This last was a statement. 

She shook her head. "I wish I could Mulder, but I ... I've seen too many things and I ... it will drive me crazy not knowing about her. I ... I need to know." 

He nodded. "I was afraid you'd say that, but I wanted to make sure." 

"So ..." 

"So, if I'm going to ruin our partnership and our friendship, there's something I want to do first." 

"What do you mean?" 

"It will be over after this, Scully. Know that." 

She swallowed. "I don't believe you." 

He smirked again, shaking his head with indulgent amusement. "It will be, believe me. So I have nothing to lose." 

"What do mean; nothing to lose?" 

"Dying men get one last request, right?" 

"Dying men?" 

"When you walk out of here tonight, Scully, my life is over." He said it with such conviction and finality. 

"Don't be ridiculous, Mulder!" He looked at her and she felt her blood chill. He meant it. It wasn't just a metaphor. Oh God. 

He looked at her again, his eyes piercing. He scanned her face as if memorizing it and then went back to make eye contact. "I'm going to say some things first, before I tell the story. I should have told you a long time ago, but I was ... afraid. Christ, it seems I've been afraid my whole life." He paused. "And I'm so ... tired." 

She picked up his other hand and squeezed them both gently, encouraging him to continue. 

"Scully, I guess there's no good way to lead up to this, so I'm going to just say it. I don't want to die knowing that I never said it to you. I don't want you to die never having known it for sure." 

"What are you talking about? Why are you talking about dying?" 

He ignored her question. He raised his hands and palmed her face, a familiar gesture from their more intense conversations, their more emotional moments. She felt herself drowning in his eyes as they swirled from dark green to bright hazel, the gold flecks sparking behind the slight wetness she could see there. He leaned his forehead on hers. "I'm in love with you, Scully." She tried to jerk away but he held her fast. 

He said one word, but with command. "No." 

She froze. "I've been in love with you for a long time." 

"Mulder, you just ..." 

"Shut up, Scully. Don't interrupt. This is too important." 

She swallowed around the enormous lump in her throat. He continued. "I've made some horrendous mistakes ... with your life and with others." 

She tried to shake her head in the negative but he held her fast. 

"But I NEVER EVER HURT YOU intentionally." 

"I know," she whispered. She was still reeling from him simply blurting out that he was in love with her. 

"But I did and ... I'm sorry, Scully. I know that's lame, but it's all I have. I'm so sorry." 

"You don't need to ..." 

"Shhh. Quiet." His voice was curt and clipped. She didn't know if that was because he was nervous or annoyed at her interruption. The heat of his hands was seeping into her face and neck and making her feel languid, despite her efforts to stay detached. 

"Before I destroy everything we've built for the last seven years, I need to do something." 

"What's that?" 

He tilted his head and when his lips were within millimeters of hers, she sucked in a tiny gasp. "I'm going to kiss you." 

He immediately descended on her lips, forcing her mouth open with his lips and demanding entrance. She opened and his tongue slid inside. He was sure, thorough and skillful. He pulled suction on her lips, both top and bottom, licked her teeth and gums and then plunged his tongue back in her mouth. She was in shock. She froze at first. 

But then the warm tingling sensations rushing through her body left her helpless to resist his confident and sure assault. She felt her core gush with moisture and she couldn't hold back the moan that escaped into his open mouth. 

He moaned in answer and deepened the kiss once more, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her up against him. She was jolted back to reality when she felt his erection pressing hot and hard into the skin of her belly. She could feel the heat from it right through his jeans and her skirt. She quivered and tried to pull back, but he slid a hand down and pressed her lower back, pinning her against him. 

She grabbed his biceps for balance and kissed him back. What else could she do? She was finding thinking at all extremely difficult at this moment. She'd dreamed of what his kisses would be. She'd wondered if they would effect her like she thought they would. Yes, they did. 

He finally broke the kiss and pulled back panting. Her breathing matched his as their eyes met again. He choked out, "Sorry, I had to do that. Thank you for letting me." 

She was starved for the connection that had always ran between him. She'd felt so cold and lonely when it had been absent earlier this afternoon. God, could she live without it. There had been an empty hole the size of the Grand Canyon in her gut when he had been so cold and emotionless. 

Something inside her snapped and she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him back to her for another kiss. Their teeth clashed and their heads angled this way and that to find the position that allowed the deepest kiss. 

Have to keep him with me. Can't let him shut his emotions off. I'm shutting mine off. No, not now. Keep him with you any way you can. He's dying inside. He needs you, Dana. She grabbed his collar and ripped his shirt open, buttons flying. His eyes went wide and he froze as she put her hands on his chest and began running them up and down, caressing his skin with a sure, almost hard touch. 

He shuddered and caught her face in his hands. "What are you doing, Scully?" His voice was ragged. 

"I don't care right now. You're scaring the shit out of me. I want you ... I want you to stay with me ... emotionally ... stay with me, Mulder, please!" 

"Scully, don't do this." 

"Why?" she asked, and pushed his shirt down over his shoulders. It caught on his arms and hung there. She palmed his erection through his jeans and his knees buckled, a low groan reverberating through his chest. 

"No, Scully. Not like this. I won't be able to be ... the way you would want me to be." 

"And what way do you think I want you to be?" She unbuttoned and unzipped his fly, brushing his penis on her way down. He pulled his hips away from her touch. 

He choked out, "Gentle ... caring ... considerate ..." 

"No I don't," she immediately replied. She reached inside the hole in his boxer briefs and freed his cock from its warm confines. 

He rasped out, "Oh Jesus, Scully, don't DO THIS. I. CAN'T. SAY. NO. TO. YOU. And you WILL regret this." 

"No." 

"Yes." 

Why was he fighting her so much? She knew he wanted her. He'd just said he loved her. Did she love him? Did it matter? She wanted him. No denying it now. One kiss and she was so far gone, there was no being called back by Strategic Air Command or Ground Control. 

He grabbed her shoulder and bullied her up the wall, pinning her there with his body. She was panting and flushed. He nearly shouted in her face, "You want me to FUCK you, Scully? Because that's all I'm capable of right now! Stop this, right NOW!" 

She didn't flinch, she didn't lose eye contact. She panted out two words, "Fuck me, then." 

He bellowed and ripped her shirt off. She heard the material tear and was strangely not upset. He didn't even try to unzip her skirt. He bunched the material at her waist into his fist and yanked. It split up the seems, leaving her in nylons and panties. He unhooked her bra, diving down to suckle her nipple hard. 

She squealed in surprise but then moaned at the heavy, hard suction he was applying to her already hardened nipple. She felt a stab of pain but then it retreated as she gushed wetness between her legs. 

He reached down and yanked her nylons and panties down, his lips switching to the other breast, being just as rough. 

She shrugged her shoulder and her bra fell to the floor. She was completely naked in front of him now and he was still fully clothed except for his ripped shirt hanging open. 

He stepped back, dropping his shirt and hastily yanking his jeans and boxers down in one quick swipe. He toed off his sneakers and stepped out of his pants. 

Scully gasped when she saw him. He was huge. He was fully erect. She dragged her eyes back up to his face and what she saw there gave her a shiver of fear at the same time it gave her a shiver of excitement. He was wild, feral, out of control. She'd wondered what he would look like fully aroused. She wasn't disappointed. 

He grabbed her arms, yanking her towards the couch again and pushing her down on her back. He hit her with enough force that she bounced on the leather cushions. They were cold and she gasped. 

But then he was descending on her like a fury. His hands ran up and down her sides, her legs, squeezed her breasts, sucked on her neck. He slid down and yanked her legs open, stuffing his face between her legs without any preliminaries. She nearly levitated off the couch when his tongue slipped into her, stabbing furiously, sucking and swallowing her juices. She shrieked at the intense dart of excitement that raced up her spine, leaving warm liquid feelings in its wake. He lapped her clit hard, once, with the flat of his tongue and she coiled on the edge of orgasm. 

No one had ever done this to her before. She'd never let them, always afraid they wouldn't like it, she would smell funny, taste funny. She was so insecure in so many ways, despite her rigid, in control exterior. 

She whimpered when he pulled away. One more lick and she would have come. He nearly leaped up her body, his hips coming down between her thighs and pressing her legs open. She raised her legs and wrapped them around his waist. 

One his arms banded under her and around her waist, lifting her and supporting her low back off the couch. The other fisted in her hair and pulled her back to look at him. She had never been more scared and so excited at the same time in her entire life. His lips were so moist. He was nearly drooling and he looked crazed. His eyes darted back and forth then squeezed tightly shut. 

He took two ragged, deep breaths and opened his eyes again. Then he croaked out two words in a voice so low and ragged she didn't recognize it as his. "Forgive me." 

He drove into her with the finesse of a jack hammer and buried himself to the hilt, pressing deep until his balls squished into her rear end. She yelped in pain at the sudden intrusion. Muscles long unused were being stretched to the limit to accommodate his girth. He'd given her no time to adjust! 

He held still for about three seconds and then said it again. "Forgive me, Scully." 

And he began to pound into her, fast and hard. He kept his arm around her waist and the other in her hair. His back bowed up and he crushed her mouth beneath his as he slid in and out of her. He was in a fury of lust. He couldn't help himself and she knew it. The pain was gone after a couple of strokes and she tried to relax into it. But there was no rhythm. He was wild and just pounding as fast and as hard as he could. 

And it felt fantastic. Better than she'd ever imagined. Oh God, when was the last time she felt this good? Then it hit her. She'd never felt this good. Sounds she didn't recognize began warbling from the back of her throat as she was caught up in his unleashed lust. He leaned in to suck her neck. 

The slight change in angle was all it took to make his engorged member brush her center of pleasure. She shrieked a wordless sound and felt her walls clench violently around his cock. She was still riding out the tremors when he erupted inside her, screaming her name and invoking God and several other deities. 

They shuddered, quivered and finally shivered to a stop, breathing hard. Sweat was soaking the leather of the couch. He stayed embedded in her for the longest time, his head hanging into the crook of her neck. 

His shoulders began to shake and she realized he was crying. She tried to lift his head with her hands but he shook his head and buried his nose deeper into her hair. He nuzzled her neck and hair, but it was not tender. It was desperate, needy and filled with remorse. 

She felt sadness engulf her again. She should have known he couldn't take this at face value. She should have known he would think this was a mistake. She was cold now, her open pores suddenly aware of the coolness in the room. She reached up and pulled the afghan off the back of the couch and spread it over them. He made to move but she murmured, "No, stay a little longer." 

He stilled, but still hadn't raised his head. She felt his hot tears bathing her neck. He sniffled and began to talk, quietly. His voice was tremulous and more devastated than she'd ever heard it. 

"I'm so sorry, Scully. Oh God, what have I done? I practically raped you! Oh God save me." 

She cooed to him. "No, Mulder! I asked for it, remember? You warned me off your mood. I wanted this. I wanted you." 

He nearly wailed. "Oh God, what have I done?! I did it again!" 

He extricated himself from her despite her protests and searched the floor for his clothes and yanked his jeans on sans underwear. He fell to his knees in the middle of the floor and began to sob. In between sobs he started to talk. 

"Scully, I did a terrible thing!" Sob. 

"About ... about two years ago, I ... I became obsessed with you." 

She gasped slightly and slid off the couch, holding the afghan to her front, feeling suddenly very naked and self conscious. She found her skirt and realized it was torn. He jumped up without warning and went into the bedroom. He returned with some sweats and a tee shirt. He turned his back while she yanked them on. 

He kept talking. "I followed you ... everywhere. Especially if I thought you had a date. I lost count of how many nights I sat ... sat outside your apartment in my car, watching your windows, waiting for the lights to go out." Pause. "Wishing ... wishing I had the courage to tell you ... tell you how much I wanted you." 

"I'm a fucking psychologist! I knew what was happening to me!" Pause. "And I couldn't stop it. I couldn't stop it, Scully. I was obsessed! I needed to know where you were every minute of every day. I knew ... I knew you'd kill me if you found out." 

"When you would go to sleep I would drive home and sit on that couch and masturbate. Imagining .. imagining you ... you touching me, holding me, kissing me." 

He turned to look at her again and immediately turned his head away as if the sight of her was painful. Maybe it was. Scully was frozen on the couch, watching him like a hawk. What had he seen? How much had he invaded her privacy? WHY DIDN'T HE TELL HER? 

Her inner voice whispered, 'Because you were always pushing him away whenever he wanted to get close.' 

"Then one night..." He paused to catch his breath. "One night, I saw you with a guy. I was about a year into this behavior and it was escalating. I knew it. I still couldn't stop it." 

Her mind raced furiously trying to remember the last time she'd tried to date anyone. He was ... he was blonde and short ... he was muscular. I didn't get a good look at his face but I saw him go into your house. It was... it was Valentine's Day. 

Oh my God! She remembered now. It was her cousin, Sean. He'd seen her with Sean. He was visiting D.C. on a business trip. He was a business consultant and he had asked if he could stay with her for the one night to save hotel fare. 

"Mulder that was ..." 

"No, don't talk, or I'll break my promise. I won't get this out." 

She stopped, going silent. She realized it didn't matter who it was. His reaction was what was important. 

"I flipped, Scully. I totally flipped. I peeled out and went driving around Georgetown. I was just driving. I felt like throwing up I was so jealous and so angry. I was angry with him, whoever he was. I was angry with me and I was furious with you for being with someone." 

He swallowed. He slumped into the desk chair and cradled his head in his hands, looking at the floor. I kept driving and ended up ... ended up in D.C., down on ... down on Cherry Avenue. 

Scully stifled a groan. That was Hooker Central. This was going to be the hard part. 

"I was soooo angry, and soooo ... fucking ... oh God! I was picturing him with you and I was ... sick ... sick to my stomach and ... and ... furious ... and so ... " His voice peeled out of him through clenched teeth. "Sooo ... FUCKING TURNED ON I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO SCREAM!" 

Scully flinched and leaned back on the couch, pulling her legs up underneath her and trying to fade into the leather. His breathing was ragged. He was sucking in deep breaths. He was going to hyperventilate if he kept this up, but she didn't dare interrupt him. 

He took one giant breath and his breathing slowed. "I ... saw this girl ..." 

He paused. "She was this tiny, little blonde, leaning against the side of the building. Her hair cut just like yours." 

Scully bit her lips to hold back from making any sound. 

"She was ... she was cute ... and she was so ... tiny ... like you." 

She couldn't help whispering. "Oh my God, Mulder." 

He sniffed and continued. "I snapped. I stopped and called her over and told her to get in. I knew ... I knew if I didn't do something I was going to implode and kill somebody, most likely myself. I had my gun and it was so tempting. One person looked at me the wrong way and I was going to blow them away. I didn't trust myself ... myself to be around anyone ... anyone I cared about." 

"She ... she was smart. She sensed my mood. She didn't understand it, but it was like she knew ... had known instinctively to be quiet. She only said one thing." 

He paused. "She said, if you take me out of town, it's extra." 

Scully almost gagged, but managed to swallow. "I brought her here." 

Scully closed her eyes. Oh God. He'd brought her here, to his home! He'd probably fucked her right here on this couch. This couch that they had just made love ... no, the couch they had just fucked on. That's what it was. That what he said it would be and that's what it was. Pure animal lust and fucking. She swallowed around the new improved, larger lump in her throat. Had he been picturing her just now when he was inside her? Had he been reliving that night? Oh God. 

"I ... I fucked her. I fucked her senseless, all night long, until I was ... until I was exhausted. I must have taken her six times before the night was over." 

Tears escaped and starting rolling down her cheeks. She couldn't speak now. Picturing this was a nightmare. He looked up at her, looking so lost and forlorn, so full of loathing for himself. 

"I was brutal, Scully." His eyes glazed over as he remembered, and she knew he wasn't seeing her anymore. This might be cathartic for him in the end, but it just might kill her. Her heart was being ripped in half. How could she have not seen his pain? 

She felt her chest tighten almost to the point of pain and sucked in another breath. Telling herself over and over, breathe, Dana, breathe. 

His voice evened out now, and was almost soft, his tears drying on his face. "I took all my rage and sexual frustration out on her. I'd ruined her clothes, just like I did yours tonight. She never said a word and neither did I. I hadn't eve known I was capable of that kind of violence, that kind of brutality with a woman. Come to think of it, I did say one word, every time I had an orgasm." 

He looked at the floor again. "I screamed your name Scully, every time." 

She felt something in her chest crack wide open and she began to cry out loud. He didn't seem to notice. He just kept talking. 

"I fell asleep on top of her. And when I woke up in the morning, she was awake and just looking at me. She was so young, Scully and so innocent." 

He laughed. "Not innocent like a child, or pure. I don't mean that. I mean she was innocent of all the turmoil in my life that I had bottled up and thrown at her, all in one night of lust. I don't care if she was a prostitute, Scully. I hated myself in the morning. I knew and she knew that I'd raped her." 

He swallowed, but then continued, his voice a monotone now. "She was covered in bruises, Scully. Her neck, her waist, her breasts, the inside of her thighs. Even her chin." 

He paused again and his eyes squinted but then they closed and he went on. "Then she got up and I saw blood." He sucked in a deep breath through his nose. 

"You know how much of a pervert I am, Scully? It gets worse. I'd taken her from behind. You know, not just doggy style. I'd ..." He hesitated now as if this was too much to say out loud. "I'd taken her in the ass." 

He paused. "Brutally. And I'd torn the skin. I didn't prepare her at all. The only sound she made that night was when I did that. She screamed. I remembered in the morning. I don't even know if I heard it then." 

He hung his head again, but his eyes stayed closed. Scully was still crying and trying to breathe shallowly and not make noise. He'd hurt this girl, enough to make her bleed. Oh Jesus, the guilt. He was the King of guilt anyway, but that must have torn him to pieces. She was revolted by this, but felt sorry for him at the same time. How was that possible? The girl was a hooker after all. 

She knew that wasn't right thinking, but she didn't want to personalize this girl. She knew thought, with a sense of dread, that this was what he was going to tell her that he did. Sure enough. 

"I cleaned her up. I held her while she cried. Then I called my family physician up in Chilmark. I had to try and make this right. I was beyond disgusted with myself. If my gun looked good the night before, it really looked good now. I was seriously thinking of turning it on myself. But I had to take care of her first." 

He paused. "I went to the bank and paid her -- $600.00, Scully. $600.00. I'm guessing, because I didn't ask, but I guess that must have been $100.00 a fuck. She didn't smile, she didn't cry after we left the apartment although I knew she was in pain. All she said was, 'You owe me $600.00' and a ride to D.C." 

He paused again and was silent for long moments. Scully started fidgeting on the couch but then he started talking again and she stilled, enraptured by the story in spite of herself. She knew her partner had emotional problems. She knew he was a tortured soul, but she'd never guessed the depths of his anguish. Truly, she thought she'd understood his pain, but she realized now, she had only glimpsed the surface. And that had been scary enough. 

"I gave her the money. She ignored my looks of sympathy. I told her I was sorry and she ignored my remorse. She just sat in the car and stared out the window. I started the drive to Chilmark. Then she spoke, finally, asking me where the hell I thought I was taking her. Amazingly, all my brutality hadn't scared her. She was so strong ... like you, Scully. But the thought that I was ... abducting her, for lack of a better term ... that scared her." 

"She demanded that I turn the car around and take her back to D.C. I just said, 'I'm taking you to my family doctor in Connecticut. We'll spend the night there and I'll bring you back tomorrow." 

"She flipped. She said Chronos would kill her if she didn't check in. She didn't have to tell me that was her pimp. So I gave her my cell phone, told her to call and say she had a very lucrative client and she wouldn't be back until tomorrow. I promised to make it worth her while." 

He heaved a sigh. "And that's how it went. My doctor checked her out, put a stitch or two in her rear end. I slipped him some cash to keep his mouth shut. He caters to all those rich socialites up there all the time. I'll bet that guy knows more dirt than the National Enquirer. He didn't get there by telling everyone's secrets." 

"So I went to my mother's. I knew she was in Florida for the winter." His voice gentled now. "Scully, you should have seen her eyes when she saw that house. Ever since Samantha was taken, I'd hated that house. But she was like a kid in a candy store. She ran around looking at everything. The smallest thing fascinated her. She played with the garbage disposal for a half an hour." 

He actually chuckled at this point and she felt a pang of something unidentifiable at the wistful tone of his voice. 

"I realized how lucky I was, Scully. I mean, how privileged I'd been despite the fact that my parents were assholes. This kid had never had anything. She still didn't talk. After she'd checked the whole place out, I showed her the room she would sleep in. It was one of the guest rooms. She beamed a smile at me and ... and my heart melted." 

Scully hiccuped to hold in the sob that wanted to escape. She was feeling everything now. Absolutely everything. Guilt, remorse, sadness, rage. She was frozen. Her mind and body didn't know what to do with it all. Didn't know how to process it. 

"I don't mean that I ... fell in love with her or anything... but, I saw her as a person, even more so than when I'd seen the blood and realized I'd really hurt her." 

"I told her to sleep and rest. I told her I was going out but I would be back and not to answer the phone if it rang. I went to the bank up there Greenwich. I had a safety deposit box there with a bundle of cash and some other things I'd put away for a rainy day. I took $1,000.00 out and went back to the house." 

"She was sleeping like a baby. She slept right through till 7:00 AM the next morning. My mother has housekeepers and gardeners and stuff and always kept food in the house. I cooked her breakfast and then we headed out." 

"We were on the road about 15 minutes when she asked me one question." 

He looked up at Scully then. She didn't know if she could hear the rest of this story despite what she'd said before. She was caught by his eyes then, and couldn't look away in spite of the fear coursing through her. 

"She asked, ... 'Who is she?'" This last part was whispered. He was silent a moment. "I'd never told anyone about you. I mean, people knew you were my partner. But I never even told the Gunmen that I was in love with you or how I felt about you. And they are my best friends next to you. I needed to tell someone, to get it out and I felt I owed her an explanation after the way I had treated her." 

* * *

* * *

**PART 4 ( R )**  
**FOX MULDER'S APARTMENT**  
**FEBRUARY 28, 2001**  
9:00 PM 

He swallowed. "It's an eight hour drive from Greenwich to D.C. and I found myself pouring out the whole story to her. I told her how you were sent to spy on me, and then became my ally. I told her how beautiful you were and how she looked like you. I told her you were a brilliant pathologist and that you validated my work. I told her everything. And I told her I had fallen in love with you, but I couldn't have you." 

"I couldn't have you because you were my partner. I couldn't have you because you were my friend. I couldn't have you because you didn't want me back and always pushed me away when I would try to get closer. You're so independent Scully, so strong, so decisive. Those qualities I love about you, I also hated, because they made you push me away." 

He sighed. "I told her ... that I had lost it because I saw you with someone and you'd broken my heart without even knowing you held it in the palm of your hand." 

He was silent then for more long minutes. He stared at her. This time, that stare unnerved her. He seemed to have hit his stride with the story. She hoped it was over soon. She wanted to leave suddenly. It was suddenly too much. She stood up. His voice was like a whip. "Sit down, Scully." 

She surprised herself and probably him too judging by the look on his face when she sat down abruptly in response to his command. The corners of his mouth tilted slightly and he said, "I'm not finished. I told you I was going to tell you the whole thing. You begged me to tell you. Well, I've ruined us anyway, so now you are going to hear the whole thing. You are going to learn just how fucked up and sick your partner really is, Scully. You asked for it and I'm not going to spare you the details. I need to tell this now. It's started and it won't be over until it's over." 

Scully nodded sharply, not saying anything. He nodded back, seemingly satisfied and continued. The coldness was returning to his eyes and his voice was growing hard again. She shivered at the sound of it. 

"I paid her the $1000.00 and she hugged me so tight I thought she was going to break my ribs. I asked her where I could find her again if I wanted her and she told me to look on that corner where I'd picked her up. That was her corner. I asked where she lived and she told me she lived in that rat hole, the Striker Lodge. She said that 'Chronos' rented a room for her there. Big spender, huh?" 

He didn't expect a response and she gave none. "Funny thing. As rotten as the whole experience was the night before, that day had turned out all right. I felt this huge burden lifted off my shoulders, having told her the story and dumped all my bullshit on her. Of course, I told her my name was George Hale." 

"I couldn't get her off my mind for the next couple of days. I wondered how she was doing. It was a refreshing break from obsessing about you." He gave her sarcastic smile that curled her toes, and not in a good way. 

"So I happened to be in the bakery down the street. I've gone there for years and knew the owner, Gary Hoyt. I'd never told him my name, but we always kibitzed whenever I went in there. That's where I always get your cinnamon buns." 

Another theory confirmed she thought inanely. She shook her head and focused on him again. 

"He happened to be complaining that a tenant had pulled the midnight move on him, leaving him hanging for 3 months rent. I got this idea and before I knew what was happening, I was renting the apartment and signing a lease. I told myself it was under the guise of helping the old man out and I would have a safe place to go. But I knew what I was doing. I just didn't want to acknowledge it, even in my head. I wanted to see that girl again, and I didn't want to bring her here again." 

He paused. "I found her again that night and brought her to the apartment. I didn't touch her that night, we just talked and I finally learned her name and about her folks. They'd kicked her out when she was a teenager because they caught her fooling around with her boyfriend. They were strict Roman Catholics and she was a bad seed after that. She took off for New York, but the city was too rough for her and she made her way down to D.C. on the advice of one of the other girls on the street she had met there. She hooked up with Chronos, who later turned out to be Elijah Griffin Spaulding. Catchy, huh? 

"I always gave her twice what her trick would normally bring. This way she could pay her pimp and keep the rest for herself. I started spending time with her. Of course she slept most of the day and was up most of the night but that was O.K. I only sleep about three or four hours a night anyway. So, I helped her to open a bank account, showed her how to balance a checkbook. I taught her how to cook, simple things. After about a month, she stopped taking my money. She said I had helped her so much and ... and she cared about me." 

"If I'd been smart, I would have run then. I didn't want her to care about me. I knew I could never love her. But in some perverse way I did want her to care. Nobody had cared about me, looked up to me in so long, ... it was nice. I admit it. My ego was stroked. And let's face it, I was starved for affection. We talked about everything, Scully, our hopes and dreams, our childhood fantasies that had been dashed by reality." 

All the things I always wanted to talk to you about, she thought with remorse. As if he'd read her mind, he said, "All the things I would have shared with you if you'd given me a chance." 

Have you ever experienced a profound sense of loss? A feeling that engulfs you with the remorse of missed chances and wasted time? This was one of the moments of clarity for Scully where she realized how utterly ignorant she had been. She realized virtually in the same moment that she was in love with Mulder, and he was in love with her and they ... they had missed their chance. She closed her eyes against the wave of pain that clutched her chest. Her hand flew to her chest. She was having a physical reaction to her hurt and overwhelming ... grief. 

Yes, it was grief. She was in mourning. A relationship was cultivated, was dying and was going to be smashed to bits. She could see it with the clarity that comes from having no more choices. The clarity that comes from a sudden understanding of what is really important in life and realizing you can't have it. 

That must be what he'd felt like that first night. It was what she felt like now. She understood him better than she ever had in their seven year partnership. 

And she hated him for opening her eyes to his tragic faults, his capability for violence and self-loathing the depths of which she had never imagined. 

She'd been told that only those who experienced great sorrow could experience great love and joy. But was he even capable of it anymore? Was he too twisted now to ever recover? 

He'd been silent, watching her in a detached sort of way. He waited until her hand lowered and then continued. He never asked if she was all right. He knew she wasn't. And he didn't care. 

That wasn't right. He cared, but he knew it was inevitable and there was nothing he could do except stop the story ... which he wasn't going to do. He'd already made that clear. 

"So the good part," he started up again. "She asked for a picture of you one night. I brought it the next night. I never brutalized her after that night. I ... I made love to her after that. I really did, the best I could anyway. I didn't love her, but I was tender and gentle as I could be. She had grown to trust me and I wasn't going to do anything to shatter that trust. You know how much I value it. Your trust has been the most precious thing in the world to me." 

"I hate to tell you this, Scully, but her trust was greater even than yours." 

The final nail in the coffin. Pain lashed through her head and she sucked in air, feeling light headed. He stood and went into the kitchen. He returned and calmly held out a paper bag. She snatched it and breathed into it. He waited for her to recover and then sat down, continuing as if nothing had happened. 

"She trusted me with her heart, Scully. Something you would never do. She LET me comfort her and take care of her. That's all I ever really wanted, you know? I wanted to take care of you. I wanted you to trust me enough to let yourself be vulnerable and know that I wouldn't think any less of you for it. But you would never do that, would you, Scully?" 

He paused. 

"She did. She trusted me with everything. Her deepest darkest secrets. We were two lost souls commiserating. I talked about you constantly and she was never offended. She cried with me all the time and in my own way, I loved her for it." 

Then he summed the entire relationship up in three words. 

"She needed me." He paused again then looked at her. "I loved you ... I love you more than my own life, Scully. And I need you more than you'll ever know. I need you to survive, Scully. Without you,... well, there's just no point. I found that out when you were gone." 

He swallowed, some of the light and warmth returning to his eyes. Sorrow now radiated out from him. He was like a kaleidoscope of emotions and facial expressions. He could change so quickly. And like every other woman that spent more than two seconds with him, she was helpless to look away, to fight the pull of those eyes. 

"I needed you Scully, but I also needed ... TO BE NEEDED." 

She felt her heart sink into her stomach. Another revelation that should have been obvious to her, but which she never considered. In retrospect, she was seeing just how deep into denial and ignorance she had been. She always thought she had things under control. It was all bullshit. She'd even lied to herself. She'd only had things under cover ... never under control. 

He swallowed, looking at her with a look of such profound hurt and sorrow that she felt her heart break again. He whispered, "Damn you, Scully. You never needed me. Did you? You never allowed yourself to need anybody or anything. Little Miss Fucking Rock Solid Inde-fucking-pendent! Do you know how inadequate that made me feel?" 

"Christ! I'm supposed to be the MAN in this partnership! Not the fucking wussy! But there it is. I needed you, you didn't need me, and Christina ... Well, she loved me and she needed me. She loved me physically and she loved ME ... the real me, screwed psyche, warts and all. She thought I was beautiful and complex and intriguing. You thought I was ornery, whacked out and frustrating. So I drifted to her more and more." 

He paused. "One good thing though, it stopped my stalking proclivities, so you know, some good comes out of everything." He was back to sounding flippant. She could hardly keep up. 

"Mulder ..." 

"Ah, Ah, Scully, no interrupting. I'm almost done. Aren't you glad you came?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. "O.K., so I brought her a picture of you and she exclaimed over how beautiful you were and how I hadn't exaggerated. And I told her she was just as beautiful. I was lying of course, but it was what she NEEDED to hear and we'd become good at giving each other what we NEEDED. So I was working on taking her pimp down without revealing my connection to her as my source of information. And she was slowing becoming you." 

He pinned her with a look then. "One thing I DIDN'T do, Scully, was ever ask her to be you. I never did, I swear. But I showed up one day and she had died and cut her hair identical to yours. I was floored. And I was ... well, as usual, I was turned on by it. Red hair has done that to me for years now. I wanted her more than I'd ever wanted her. I should have been appalled. I can see that now. I can see how sick it was, but she knew. She knew without me having to say so that I would love it. And I did. I'm so sick, Scully, truly. I don't deserve to live. Really." 

He sounded so casual when making those comments. Later she would realize that he'd mentioned the end of their relationship and her leaving him/walking away, with death many times over the course of the evening but she'd never picked up on it. It should have thrown a red flag, but at the time she was too caught up in her own grief and rage over this situation to anything but be completely self centered at that point. 

"God, how I fucked her that night." He closed his eyes, remembering, she figured and she swallowed the bile that rose in her throat every time he mentioned touching this girl. 

"I'd mentioned your tattoo and your one wild indiscretion since I'd known you. How it had torn me to shreds knowing that psycho had touched you. Not that I was any better at that point. She wanted to see it. I obviously couldn't introduce you two, so I took the picture from your file." 

Scully gasped. "You took ... that was part of an official government file, Mulder!" 

He merely chuckled. "Yes, indeed. It was, wasn't it? You always cared about stuff like that, Scully, but I never did. I was going to put it back." He said this as though it was obvious and she was a slow child. She bristled but said nothing, trying to tamp down her anger. He said he was almost finished. 

"So I showed her the picture. Honest to god, it never occurred to me that she would get a tattoo." 

Scully couldn't help it. Her eyebrow rose nearly to the ceiling. He did laugh then. "No, really. How stupid is that? She'd just died her hair. I don't know why it didn't occur to me what she was doing. I just thought it was a one shot deal with the hair. I had no idea she'd take it so far. She knew I loved you. I'd said it enough times. I never had to worry about what I said around her. It was very freeing." 

He paused. "Anyhooooo, somehow she ... distracted me that evening and ... I left the photo. I didn't realize it until I went home. I didn't worry much about it. I just figured I would get it the next day. Which I did and returned it to the file." 

"Ironically, we didn't fool around that night. Contrary to what you may believe, we didn't jump each other every night. She was only seeing a couple of other guys that were regulars and I told her to stay at the apartment after a while. I'd even bought her a small, used car to go back and forth with. She was looking for honest work and helping Tony part time. She was just biding her time until I could snag Chronos a/k/a Elijah. Oddly, the other guys didn't bother me." 

"Isn't that strange? I was never jealous of her like I was of you. I guess because that wasn't the kind of relationship we had. We weren't possessive yet we let ourselves be needy. I didn't that first night, but after that, I always used a condom. I wasn't stupid. I had her tested and she was negative, thank God. I did think about that after that fact of that first night." 

"So then I showed up one night to meet her a couple nights later." He paused. "This was about four months ago, and she was in bed. She called to me from the bedroom. We played games sometimes with each other and I was wound up anyway. I practically ran in there, anticipating some wonderful evening of teasing." He paused again, suddenly becoming serious. 

"And there she was, buck naked on the bed, laying on her stomach. Her little fanny sticking up in the air and ... that tattoo was practically gleaming on her back. It was still so fresh. I knew it had to be sore so I was careful but Scully, I gotta tell you ..." 

"Are you sure?" She wasn't kidding. 

He laughed as if she'd told the greatest joke. He nodded after getting his chuckles under control. "Yes, I gotta tell you, I was never so hard, so fast in all my life. God it was almost painful." He closed his eyes. "I blinked and shook my head, I remember it clearly. I looked at her and she smiled at me, and she was ... she was you, Scully. God damned if in that moment, she wasn't you all over." 

He swallowed. "And I lost it completely. I'd never hurt her again since that first time, but I was pretty rough with her that night. We made love all night long, slow and tender, fast and hard, down and dirty. And I called her ... I called her Scully all night." 

Scully leaped off the couch, startling him. She saw the flash of surprise on his face as she bolted past him, a hand over her mouth. She ran into the bathroom and retched violently. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod! Sick, sick, sick. He was so sick. He'd called that GIRL by her name and made love to her and PRETENDED it was her. Sick. Sick. Sick. 

She finished retching only after a few minutes of the dry heaves. She'd lost what little supper she'd eaten. She flushed the toilet and sank onto the cool tile of the floor. After a couple of minutes, she stood, once again on shaky legs and made her way to the sink. She rinsed her mouth and looked at herself in the mirror. She was crying hot, stinging tears still and still felt sick. She spit in the sink and scooped some cool water from the tap into her hand and drank it down to cool the burning in her stomach. 

He appeared in the doorway, looking sullen and ... sorry. She absently realized that his sarcasm and detachment were his defense mechanisms. She absently realized that he had been that way because he hated himself, not because he hated her. That was probably the only way he could get the story out. But it didn't make it hurt any less. It had made the story, cruel as it was, even crueler. 

He reached a tentative hand toward her. She flinched and retreated into the bathroom, backing away from him. He eyes became wet again and he swiped at them. He looked at her again. "So now you know. I did care for her, Scully. I did ... have a friendship with her. It was different from the one I have ... had ... with you, but it was just as valid. She pulled me out of the pits of despair. She held me and comforted me and needed me. And I did the same for her. After that night ... after that night, I told her not to do anything else to be like you. It was too confusing to me. I realized how sick I was at that point, but ... it had gone on too long and I had committed to helping her get off the streets." 

"It hurt her, but I told her she could never be you and she shouldn't try. She should just be herself. She was hurt but she understood. But you can't erase a tattoo, not without surgery. And we had more important things to tend to, like getting her off the street. She was talking about going home and making amends to her parents. I wanted to help her, Scully. I really and truly did. But ..." 

He looked at the floor and then at her again. "But I was too little, too late... and now she's dead. And I did care for you. And I ... I can't help but wonder if I hadn't worried so much about my precious ass, if I couldn't have gotten her off the street sooner. This may have never happened. She would have left for Pennsylvania. We would have said good bye, it's been nice knowing you, keep in touch. And you ... you never would have been the wiser." 

He grimaced and pressed his lips together. "At least that was the plan. But now she's dead and I think it's my fault, despite your admonitions to get over myself. I think the killer is striking close to home. I think that he is going to try and hit people close to the investigators. I think I'm going to see a pattern soon, real soon." He paused. 

"I need to tell you something else, Scully." 

"No!" She blurted out the one word and held up a hand as if to ward him off. 

"I have to, it's important." 

"I don't want to hear any more, Mulder! Enough!" 

"Scully, this isn't about Christina. It's about the case." 

Her head snapped up to look him in the face. He was serious. She breathed in deep and nodded. "Say what you have to say and say it quick and get it over with." 

His face crumbled into pain and hurt, his eyes squinting, his mouth twisting, and tears falling as he looked at her. He was trying valiantly not to cry but was not succeeding. She could see the nervous break down was close at hand. He was going to melt down before this night was over. She just hoped she could get out of here before it happened. It might be cruel, but she just couldn't handle it tonight. She had a lot of thinking to do. 

"Scully..." 

"Say it already!" She was nearly shouting again. 

He winced and nodded again, sharply. His voice was low and tortured and she had to strain to hear him. "I think ... I think the killer ... thought Christina was you." 

She'd never actually FELT the color drain out of her head, but at that moment she did. Oh my God! That hadn't even occurred to her. As if losing his friend wasn't enough, he thought the killer had targeted her and got Christina by mistake. Oh my God! What now? This was just too fucking much. He was a kook, but ... he was probably right. Despite his sick perversions, he was a brilliant kook. 

He whispered. "I did some searching on the internet while I was at ... Christina's last night and today. All the victims had ... family members in some part of law enforcement. Some were distant relatives, but still. All of them ... except Christina." 

Scully felt the hysteria bubble up under her breast bone and she whimpered then screamed, "WHY DIDN'T YOU CALL AND TELL ME, YOU BASTARD!" 

He was crying again now, but determined to make her see the danger. "I was going to tell you, Scully. I was going to go into the office tomorrow and tell you. I just figured it out myself. You have to believe me! I haven't known this for days! I just figured it out today!" 

Scully was pulling and blowing breaths out through pursed lips, trying to get herself under control. She almost had herself calm enough to walk out of there when he blew it. 

"Scully, please talk to me about this, please. I know I just shattered every illusion you ever had about me, but I ... I need to know you'll take every precaution." 

"You want to protect me?" 

The low, lethal calm of her voice should have warned him. 

"Of course I want to protect you. I lo...love you, Scully." 

"You think you love me?!" she shrieked. 

He raised his voice along with hers. "Yes! Oh God, Scully, I'm nothing without you!" 

"You should have thought of that before you fucked your little woman and turned her into your little UberScully. You called that fucking whore by my name! DO YOU KNOW HOW INSULTING THAT IS!? DO YOU HAVE ANY FUCKING IDEA? YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT LOVE IS!" 

He screamed back her. "NEITHER DO YOU! YOU WOULDN'T KNOW IT IF IT BIT YOU ON THE ASS!" 

She went to walk past him and he grabbed her arm. 

"Don't fucking touch me! I can't stand the sight of you right now! I have to go. I don't know if I'll ever be back! I need to think." 

She ran into the living room, scooping up her purse and throwing her coat on over her shoulders. She only had one arm in the sleeve and she was scrambling for the door, dragging her coat behind her. She had to get out of here, NOW! 

As if he'd suddenly realized what was happening, she heard his agonized scream "Scul...huulllly, WAIT! Pllleeeaaassseee!, don't leave me!" 

She stopped with her hand on the door. She was shaking. She had to get out of here and yet his anguish cut through her like a knife despite all the sick shit he'd dumped on her tonight. She ground out between her teeth. "Give me some time! I can't even look at you right now!" 

She yanked the door open and bolted, slamming it shut behind her. She heard him wail again. "Scccuuullllyyy! Pllleeeaaasssseee! Oh God, I knew you'd llleeeaaavvveee!" 

She hesitated but then steeled herself and trotted to the elevator chanting, "Don't go back, don't go back, don't go back." Finally the doors of the elevator opened. She leaped inside, stabbing the button for the ground floor. The doors slid shut and mercifully drowned out his cries. 

She put her head in her hands and wept. 

* * *

* * *

**PART 5 (R )**  
**D.C. GENERAL HOSPITAL**  
2:10 AM 

Walter Skinner glanced in the window of the door that was the entrance to Fox Mulder's room on the ward. 

"Locked?" he asked, pointing to the door with a window in it. 

"Yeah," the orderly replied. He motioned to the guard and he approached and unlocked the door. "He's on suicide watch." 

He nodded and pushed the door open. 

He approached the bed carefully. Mulder had ripped out the I.V. and they had given up trying to get another in him. They were still coming in every hour with the mild sedative. He was sitting Indian style on the bed with his legs crossed. She approached slowly and perched one hip on the edge of the bed. 

"Agent..." He stopped, thinking he should try to be more personal, no matter how uncomfortable that might be. He cleared his throat. "Mulder?" 

Mulder's eyes opened and they turned to the side to look at him. His head didn't move. Only his eyes. Otherwise, he didn't acknowledge Skinner, just the eyes. "Do you know who I am?" he asked carefully. 

Mulder grunted. He'd take that as a yes. "Do you want to talk to me about it?" 

Mulder squeezed his eyes shut tightly and then opened them again. "I know. You only want to talk to one person, right?" 

He watched as Mulder swallowed convulsively. "She's coming here. She's on her way now." 

That got a reaction. His head actually shook as if in tremor and then stilled. He took a deep breath through his nose and straightened the arms that were resting on his knees. He was in a classic meditative pose and he wondered if that was what he was doing, meditating. Skinner had no idea whether that was a practice of his or not. He doubted it. Mulder was so wound and tense. If he meditated regularly, he might not be so tense. Then he thought ironically, 'I should take my own advice.' 

"Mulder, what happened?" 

No response. "It's not going to get any better unless you talk about it ... to somebody, anybody. You're a psychologist. You know that. He kept his voice placid and soft and low. 

"You may not believe it right now but there are people who love you, and people like me who care about you." 

Mulder was blinking slowly. Skinner had no idea if he was paying attention or not. His two odd, mismatched, yet perfectly matched agents were a puzzle. He knew they loved each other. Scully was in denial and Mulder was over the top. What else was new? He wondered if Scully would let some of her walls fall. Mulder had been near death more times than he could count. But never by his own hand. He hoped it was going to be a wake up call. 

"Mulder, I know you were messed up with that woman somehow." Mulder flinched. 

"Bad choice of words," Skinner mumbled. "But I want you to know, that ... I don't care about that. We all have our weaknesses and I'm sure you had your reasons. No one, and least of all me is going to hold it against you. Neither is Scully if you give her some time." 

A lone tear leaked out of the corner of Mulder's eye and he spoke for the first time. His voice was raw and cracked. "You have no idea what you're talking about." 

Skinner moved to stand and stood at the end of the bed, grasping the foot board as he leaned over slightly. He wanted to look him in the eye. He was confident that he could subdue Mulder if he flipped out. He'd done it before. The man was tall, but physically, he was no match for him. Maybe he could startle something out of him. 

"I know you made love to her tonight." 

Mulder's breath hissed in through his teeth and his lip curled in an ugly grimace. Skinner waited a second and then said, "I found your note, luckily before the police got there." 

"It wasn't for you." 

"I know that, but it wasn't for the police either." 

They stared each other down for a moment. "I know you love her, Mulder. Everybody knows it. Everybody but her, until tonight, I guess. The funny thing is, it doesn't bother me. I know it's supposed to bother me that agents behave this way, but it doesn't. Not with you two. You couldn't be any closer than you are now. Everybody marvels at the uncanny connection you two have." 

His responses were short and sweet, but at least he was responding which was more than he had done with the three psychs that had been in here so far tonight 

"Not any more. I ruined everything ... a long time ago." 

Skinner shook his head. "No, Mulder, I don't think you did. I think you fucked up but hell, it wouldn't be the first time, and it won't be the last. She's always come around before and she will this time too." 

"No. Not this time." 

"Damn it, Mulder, don't die on her. She wouldn't be able to take it." 

Now Mulder barked out a harsh laugh. "She's probably sorry I didn't succeed. I ruined her tonight." 

"Because you made love to her." 

He gave Skinner a look like he was the biggest fool on the planet. "I didn't make love to her. I fucked her. I raped her ... SIR!" He spat out the 'Sir.' 

Skinner shook his head again, looking at the ceiling. Finding no guidance there, he returned his gaze to Mulder's. "Mulder, how big of an idiot do you think Agent Scully is anyway?" 

Mulder scowled at him. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

"It means, Agent Mulder, that Agent Scully is a doctor and a mighty strong woman. She knows what to do, the protocol for rape. And I believe, that no matter how emotionally overwrought she was, if she felt that she had been raped, she would have run screaming for a hospital without ever flirting with a shower." He paused. "Even if it was you that did it." 

Mulder frowned even more if that possible, but didn't respond. 

Skinner shook his head again, unable to quite believe Mulder really thought he had raped Scully. "Mulder, if Agent Scully didn't want to be touched, she would have had you doubled over with your nuts in your throat before you could even whip your dick out." 

Mulder actually flashed a smile at that comment, but then went somber again. But he had his attention. He was staring at Skinner now, paying attention. "I called her after I knew you were going to pull through. I waited. I didn't know if I was going to have to tell her you were dead or not. Not a job I was looking forward to." 

"Now you can sit there and wallow in self pity all you want. And you can blame yourself for a lot of things, but damn it, Mulder, Scully is a grown woman. And she isn't just a grown woman, she's a brilliant, extraordinary woman. She's strong. Shit, she's taken your masochistic bullshit for seven years." 

Mulder's mouth dropped open. Skinner had never talked to him this way and he knew he was probably shocking Mulder, but if that was what it took to snap him out of it, then so be it. He continued, seeing at least that he was having some effect. He wasn't off in never-never land anymore. 

"Don't you think it's time you gave the poor woman a fucking break and let her decide for herself what's your fault and what isn't? Christ, you treat her like she doesn't have the capacity to make those determinations for herself. Do you even realize you're insulting her every time you do that?" 

Mulder's bottom lip began to quiver slightly. His eyes were moist now and his mouth was hanging open still. He had the look of the truly befuddled. He had that look slow people get when they finally latch onto a concept. The bulb was finally beginning to glow. Skinner stood up straight and began to pace. As he'd hoped, Mulder was following him with his eyes. Yup, he was paying attention. 

"If I were her, I would have told you to shut up and give her some credit a long time ago." Think, think, think, Skinner thought to himself. Got to keep him interested. And maybe he could heal a wound between these two that he'd seen festering for a long time now. They had a love-hate relationship that never crossed the line into one field or the other. 

"I've been meaning to talk to you about that." 

Mulder chuffed out another incredulous sound. "You've been meaning to talk to me ..." 

"Yes. I don't normally involve myself in my agents' personal lives, but you two have never fit the mold from day one. That's what makes you two so damned exasperating. But it's also what makes you two such a fabulous team." He stopped pacing and spun to look at him. 

"I know that so I put up with the bullshit, but I see Agent Scully wince every time you try to take the blame for things that you have no control over, whenever you try to decide what's best for her. Christ, Mulder, she doesn't need you to do that for her." 

Mulder choked on a sound of pain. Uh oh. That was the wrong thing to say. He rasped out, "You're right. She doesn't need me. She never has." 

"No Mulder! Damn you for a fool. You always take things the wrong way. She doesn't need you to decide what's best for her, but that doesn't mean she doesn't need YOU. She needs you, Mulder. But she's a woman in a man's world. It's hard for her to let go, to let down the veneer. You know that. You have to dig ... dig a little deeper to get her to ... to open up. But she will. I know she will. I see the way she looks at you. Damn, I've almost been envious a couple of times." 

"What?" 

Skinner chuckled. "That surprise you, Mulder? Me, jealous of you?" He paused. "And not because of your fucking brilliant I.Q. Not because of your uncanny ability to ferret out weird nonsense and make sense of it. Not because you have the highest solve rate in the Bureau with cases that nobody else could even begin to figure out." He was puffing now. 

"I've been jealous of you because a woman like Scully ... a strong, independent, smart, beautiful woman like Scully ... looks at you like you are ... catnip." 

Mulder laughed a short burst of laughter then. "Catnip, sir?" 

Skinner grinned. "I'm not interested in Scully that way, but ... but ... God, I am a man, Mulder and I recognize a beautiful woman when I see one. And we both know that Scully is beautiful on the inside and the out and ... and ... God, you have treated her like shit sometimes." He paused. 

"But not the way you think. Bringing her into danger, that's part of her job. Ditching her because you're trying to protect her, that's treating her like shit. Giving her no credit." 

"I believe in Scully's abilities. That's not true!" His voice had risen. Ahh, now we were getting somewhere. 

"Her getting injured in the line of duty was never your fault, Mulder. That's part of this job too sometimes. A lousy part, but a part. Her abduction and cancer wasn't your fault either. It was the fault of the men who took her. She followed you willingly. She could have left any time. No one would have held it against her." 

"Those things, the things you focus on are NOT the problem and not your fault, Mulder. You've got it all wrong." He took a deep breath, trying to decide what to say next and how far he should go. 

Mulder swallowed, watching him intently. "What's the problem then?" His asked so quietly, Skinner had to almost read his lips. God, he looked like a lost little boy. He didn't want to die. He was just sooo fucked up. The kid needed help and Skinner resolved that he was going to make sure he got it. And he needed Scully. Skinner was also going to do everything in his power to make Scully realize it, if she didn't already. 

"The problem, Mulder, is the one that you both have." 

"What?" 

"You're both fearless agents ... but you are both absolutely chicken-shit when it comes to talking about your feelings. Damn, Mulder, who's the psychologist here? You or me? You never told her how you felt. She never told you how she felt. You both dance around it, avoid it, stuff it down, but then you snap and go running to each other's side whenever one of you is hurt or in danger." 

"You could insult her ten ways to Sunday during the day and she'll go flying out of bed in the middle of the night to rush to your side because you did something stupid. You rushed off without her and got yourself into a jam and she's gotta bail you out. Or you got hurt because you didn't trust her enough to be there to back you up. But still, she doesn't even consider NOT rushing to your side. What does that say to you, Mulder?" 

"I don't know," he whispered. 

"For a genius you can be dumb as a box of rocks, you know that Mulder?" 

"Geez," he croaked. 

Skinner laughed. He couldn't help it. "It means, wonder boy, that she's IN LOVE WITH YOU." 

Mulder just stared at him like he had two heads. Then the air whooshed out of his lungs and he deflated. All he said was, "Interesting theory, sir." 

"Oh Jesus, Mulder, you're hopeless." 

At that moment, the door was flung open so hard that it banged into the wall, causing both Skinner and Mulder to jump and whirl in the direction of the door. Skinner instinctively reached for his weapon. He registered that it was Scully and he dropped his hand. 

She looked wild. Her hair was rumpled and wavy around her head from going to bed with wet hair. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were flashing. The door slammed shut behind her and she stood, arms akimbo and stared daggers at Mulder. 

Skinner thought, 'Guess this is my cue to leave.' He cleared his throat. "Well, I guess, uh, I'll leave you two alone." 

Scully glanced at him, acknowledged him and his statement with a sharp nod and turned her attention back to Mulder. Mulder was visibly folding in on himself. Skinner almost felt even more sorry for him, if that was humanly possible. He was about to get chewed a new asshole. He wished he could stay and watch but that would be the worst kind of bad form. He sighed and exited the room, shaking his head. 

* * *

**D.C. GENERAL HOSPITAL**  
**MARCH 1, 2001**  
2:40 AM 

Scully had raced into the hospital, flashing her badge at the information desk and trotting toward the psych ward. She knew this hospital intimately. She thought briefly what a sad statement that was. 

Oh God! He'd tried to kill himself! Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! She chided herself. She should have caught the red flags. He'd said, 'Dying men get one last request, don't they? When you walk out of here tonight, Scully, my life is over. I've been afraid my whole life. And I'm so ... tired. Before I destroy everything we've built for the last seven years, I need to do something.' His words were replaying themselves with amazing clarity now. Her brains had been scrambled a few short hours ago. 

All she'd been able to think then was that she needed space, and lots of it. The thought of him having sex with woman and pretending it was her had made her sick, literally sick. Later though, she'd started to wrap her mind around just how desperate he had to be for love to accept that. Even for him it was extreme. But then again, this girl had grown to be more to him than just a good lay. She had truly become his friend, a kindred lost soul. 

And the bottom line was that if she'd kept him from blowing his head off that night, she owed the girl a debt of gratitude. She couldn't imagine the devastation had he killed himself and she never knew why. Tonight, if his neighbor hadn't heard them shrieking at each other and been nosey, she would be facing the same devastation. And knowing exactly why. She didn't know which was worse. 

She was wide awake now, frantic to find him and see him. On the drive over here, she had allowed herself to imagine life with him gone. The sinking feeling of emptiness, regret, remorse and heartbreak that had seized her was crushing. She'd almost driven off the road. 

However messed up he was, however perverted, he'd done what he'd done because he loved her. Had he ever had a role model for a healthy relationship. Phoebe and Diana had been no help. His parents had been no help. He was truly in love with her. And he didn't know how to deal with that. And he believed that she didn't love him back. And he didn't know how to deal with that. 

It dawned on her that everyone he'd ever cared about had abandoned him or hurt him. She was the one person who had stood by him, until Christina. And even she had been planning on moving on. 

She had said the only words that could have made him give up all hope. 'I don't know if I'll ever be back!' Oh God. Any other words and he would have wanted to stick it out and see what she did, what was going to happen. If she felt crushing devastation at the thought of life without him, what must he have felt? And it was combined with a self-loathing that nearly unfathomable. Yes, he was sick, but she was forgetting the meaning of that word. She had spat it out like it was a curse. It wasn't. 

He wasn't a bad man. He was a sick man. It wasn't a curse, it was an illness and he needed help. Now that she'd had a little distance, she could reason this all out. But with him staring her in the face she couldn't think at all. And he'd nearly killed himself because of her careless words. 

She had to help him, like she always did. She was not going to the last in a long line of loved ones to leave him, abandon him. She could have said she hated him. Even that would have been better than saying she might never be back. Abandonment was the worst possible of nightmares for him. He expected her to hate him. He had expected her to leave him. And she had proved him right. That she was like every other person he'd ever loved. She was flying the coop when things got tough. 

Not this time, Fox Mulder. You can't get rid of me that easily. She nearly staggered when she remembered that Skinner had said he was holding his weapon. 

She looked at the ceiling of the elevator as it rose to the fourth floor, closed pysch ward. She silently prayed. 'Thank God he didn't shoot himself. Thank God. He's alive. We still have a chance to make this better. We? Yes, we, always we ... us. There was going to be an US if she had anything to say about it. 

All this angst and anguish in the course of one day and it was all dissolved into nothingness in the face of the glaring fact that he loved her enough that he couldn't live without her, no matter what else he had done to keep his demons at bay. 

She'd left. She wasn't coming back, he thought. His life was over. Period, end of story. He'd swallowed pills. Christ, were Romeo and Juliet any more dramatic than this? He was certainly tragic. 

And ... she loved him anyway. Yes. It was official. Dana Katherine Scully is in love with Fox William Mulder and she was going to be the savior he'd thought his Christina was going to be. It would hurt thinking of him with her but she would get over it. 

Her mind drifted back to earlier in the evening. The anger turned to lust. She'd wantonly encouraged him. She'd given him no choice but to take her. What the hell had she been thinking? He'd been rough, but not brutal. He'd been wild, but not harmful. He'd lost control and taken her hard, just like he said he would if she pursued her actions to their conclusion. He hadn't lied. He had warned her and she had gotten exactly what she asked for. 

She'd said, 'Fuck me, then.' And he had. But she knew he could make love too. His experiences with Christina told her that. And she knew it anyway. She'd experienced his tenderness and compassion before on the rare occasions when she'd let him in. It had felt so good, those times, and they had scared her. She was afraid she would lose herself, her own identity in him if she gave over to her passion. 

She realized now that was silly. She was a Scully. She would always be a Scully with a mind of her own, no matter where her passions took her. She would always argue with his brilliant mind and run in circles around his fantastic leaps of intuition trying to poke holes in his theories. And that was O.K. They were different, but perfectly matched. Each had what the other lacked and together they were like a pair of balanced scales. 

That is if one of them didn't give up. She wasn't going to. Now she had to convince him not to give up either. She squared her shoulders and put on her business face as she stepped off the elevator and walked briskly down the hall. Several staff members, despite her casual attire, took one look at her face and stepped aside, watching the back of her head as she whipped by and headed for the door to the ward. 

She was a woman on a mission and they better all get the hell out of the way. Hurricane Scully was moving in for the kill. 

* * *

* * *

**PART 6 ( R )**  
**D.C. GENERAL HOSPITAL**  
2:55 PM 

She'd worked up a real head of steam by the time she reached the ward. This was the absolute last straw. They were going to settle some things right here and now. Then she was going to get him discharged and take him home with her. And then ... she wasn't going to let him out of her sight ... for ... however long it took. 

She announced herself at the desk, flashing her badge. The nurse spouted the room number and said she was expected. She flew down the hall, her trench coat billowing out behind her. She looked like a kid almost in an oversize jacket, her sweats and tee shirt making her look small and sporty as she marched off down the hall. She found the room and asked the guard to unlock it. 

He mumbled, "Already unlocked. Big, bald dude's in there now." 

Scully suppressed a chuckle at the orderly's description of Skinner. She took a deep breath and shoved the door open. It snapped past its hydraulic spring and slammed into the wall. She hadn't meant to push that hard, but wasn't upset with the results. The two men spun around with lightening reflexes, both reaching for weapons. Mulder didn't have his, but it was worth it to see the expression on his face. His mouth had dropped open. His eyes were riveted on her. And he looked frightened. 

Good. He'd been frightened tonight. He was going to be a different kind of frightened before the night was over. She planted her hands on her hips, glaring at him. She knew she must look wild, having rolled out of bed so suddenly and having not dried her hair. She didn't care. She knew he was going to need massive counseling once he got out of here, but that was for later. Now, they needed to get some things straight. 

Skinner mumbled something about leaving them alone and exited the room. She fairly stalked over to the end of the bed and stood looking at him for several moments. He opened his mouth as if he was about to speak, but then shut it again when she shook her head slightly in the negative. 

She came around the bed and sat on the edge. He scuttled hurriedly to the top of the bed to make room for her. He was gazing at her like she was an apparition. Guess she should do something about that. He looked adorable in nothing but a tee shirt and those flimsy hospital night pants. He was barefoot, and his hair was all messed up, sticking up in spikes all over his head. He blinked several times as if trying to clear the cobwebs from his eyes. 

She smiled. She could see his facial muscles twitch. He wanted to smile but he was still afraid. She caught his gaze then and read him clearly. He couldn't believe she was here. Skinner must have told him she was coming, but he hadn't believed him. 

She sighed. "I'm going to talk now, Mulder. I'm going to say a few things and you are going to listen." 

He nodded, swallowing and blinking again. She had an urge to ruffle her fingers through his hair but pushed down the temptation. Not yet. 

"And you are not going to interrupt." 

He nodded again, pressing his lips together. Adorable. Amazing how one could go from total devastation and rage one hour to total acceptance and determination the next. She'd run the gamut of emotions today, but her path was clear now. 

"I listened to you and I didn't interrupt. And that was probably the hardest thing I ever had to do." 

He nodded again. "So now, you're going to listen me and you're going to listen to me good ... for once." 

He nodded again, almost eagerly. He really couldn't believe she was here. 

"I'm not happy with you right now." His face fell but he remained silent. "And not because of this afternoon." 

He looked up then, refocusing on her. "I'm am so unbelievably pissed off that you would put me through this, Mulder." 

He opened his mouth, but then shut it abruptly, remembering his vow of silence. "Like I haven't had to come to your hospital bed for numerous injuries and illnesses over the years. As if that isn't enough, you go and do this. I don't need to be doing this shit for self-inflicted injuries or illnesses on top of it." 

He hung his head, breathing hard through his nose. "Look at me." His head snapped up. He was kneeling now and had his hands on his thighs. He was squeezing his legs with his fingers in an effort to stay still. 

"I'm going to tell you something that's going to shock you, Mulder. Are you ready?" 

He nodded. 

"I'm doomed." His mouth fell open. She continued as if he'd had no reaction. "I'm doomed to a life of the X-Files, and do you know why?" 

He shook his head, but tentatively. "Because I'm so head over heels in love with you that the thought of living without you makes me sicker than I was this afternoon after your perverted little story." 

Now his mouth opened again and his lips started working up and down. He gasped for air and she leveled her gaze at him. "Breathe, Mulder." She was using her no nonsense voice. 

He did, deeply, his eyes never leaving her face. "That's really a bitch, you know? I mean, I wish it weren't true sometimes. It would make my life much easier, God knows. But there it is. I'm in love with you, Mulder, easily as much as you are in love with me and you know what?" 

He shook his head, barely discernible. "I just don't have the strength to hide it anymore. So I'm not going to. I'm going to show you I love you in every way I can. I'm going to tell you every day until you believe it." 

"AND, I'm not going anywhere. You almost got rid of me today. I realize you are trying to so hard to get rid of me." He was shaking his head frantically now from side to side. "You've been testing me for years, just waiting for me to prove to you another one of your wild theories ... that I'm like every other person in your life who's left you. That I'm like every other one who couldn't hack it, couldn't stand being with you for the long haul." 

She paused. "Well, I'm NOT like everyone else. I never was and I'm never going to be. Don't insult me like that again, stop testing me." 

He shook his head again. "No? You weren't testing me? Well, it doesn't matter, because it's not going to work. I'm not going anywhere. I'm a very, very difficult person to shake off once I've decided to stay. Nothing short of death is going to take me away from you. It's really that simple." 

He smiled now, disbelief written all over his face. She laughed. He pulled back slightly. "Oh Mulder, you should see your face right now!" 

"Scu...llyy." 

"Nope, not yet. Can't talk yet. I'm not finished." He nodded again, eagerly waiting for her next sentence now, she was sure. 

"I'm going to spring you out of here and take you home with me." 

Mulder's face couldn't convey more incredulity than it already did, yet he managed it. "But there are conditions." 

He nodded eagerly. "And they are nonnegotiable and they are non-breakable." 

He swallowed and nodded. "One, you will live with me for a while." 

His jaw dropped again. "So that I can look after you. We are both taking a leave of absence and I'm not taking my eyes off you until I'm convinced that you are not going to pull any of this midnight drama queen shit on me again. Honestly, Mulder, my heart can't take it, not again." She paused. "My leave of absence is voluntary. I have the time. Yours is mandatory." 

He hung his head. "They are taking your gun and badge for now, Mulder. Most agents would be fired automatically. But they will consider giving them back after a psychological review to take place in a month. If you aren't ready then, they will do it in another month. You're only getting that because A.D. Skinner likes you and no one else in the world wants your job!" 

He just stared at her, the corners of his mouth twitching. 

"Two, we are BOTH going to get counseling." He frowned slightly and swallowed. "BOTH OF US, separately and together. We both have obvious issues that need to be resolved if we are going to have a healthy relationship and I'm tired of trying to figure this shit out on my own. It isn't working." 

He didn't agree this time, but he didn't disagree either. She stormed on ahead. "That is nonnegotiable, Mulder." 

He nodded, finally, seemingly resolved. "Three, you will never and I mean NEVER take off without me again." 

He nodded. "It's fucking insulting and I won't put up with it anymore." His eyes darted away but then they came back to rest gently on her face. 

"And last but not least, in fact, the most important one of all." He took a deep breath, waiting. "Four, you had your little fantasy life with Christina but that's over now, obviously." 

He nodded. She saw the tears flood his eyes again but he blinked them back. "I'm sorry about her death, Mulder, I truly am." Her voice softened. "And we will go to the funeral." A couple of tears fell down his face. 

She reached out to capture his chin with her hand and he flinched slightly, more from surprise than anything else. She drew her face close to his. Her voice was a growl. "If I EVER, catch you touching another woman," she paused. Her voice changed to cheerful, "I'll cut off your dick in your sleep. Loraina Bobbit's got nothing on a scorned Scully." 

He burst out laughing then, rocking back and forth, tears streaming down his face. This time though, they were tears of joy and disbelief. She smiled that big, toothy smile that made his heart turn over in his chest. He whooped loudly and they both turned when they heard someone's hands hit the window. It was A.D. Skinner peering in the window to see if everything was all right. Scully waved to him and so did Mulder. He smiled a big smile and backed away from the door shaking his head. 

She chuckled at him and then said, "Now you can talk." 

His mouth opened and closed several times. He finally reached for the plastic water cup that was on the bed side stand and poured some water from the Styrofoam pitcher into it. He gulped it down and then cleared his throat. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked up at her, falling onto one hip, his arm darting out to prop him up on the bed. He just stared at her and then flopped backwards on the bed, staring at the ceiling and grinning like an idiot. She leaned over him and raised an eyebrow in his face. 

He smiled wider, obviously amused at this familiar gesture. He tentatively reached out and cupped the back of her neck. His voice was a whisper. "I don't know what I did to deserve you. You should hate me, Scully." 

"I won't hear any of that nonsense anymore, Mulder." She was all business again. He smiled gently at her. 

"But who am I to look at gift horse in the mouth?" 

She smiled back. Then he said, "Maybe there is a God after all." 

The tears that flooded her eyes so suddenly took her by surprise and poured down her cheeks. He rubbed them away with his thumbs and sat up, gently leaning her up and away with him. He scooted closer and leaned his forehead on hers. "Don't cry, Scully. You know I can't stand it when you cry." 

She smiled through her tears. Her Mulder was back. The one that couldn't stand to see her cry. The one that only wanted what was best for her, despite his skewed perspective of what that might be. He was looking at her so tenderly that she could weep all over again but swallowed the lump in her throat. He asked softly, "Can I kiss you now?" 

He threw that lower lip out into a pout and she sighed dramatically. "Mulder, you know I can't resist that pout, no fair!" 

He smiled and pouted even more. She grumbled, "Aaarrrrgggghhhh! Just a little." 

He immediately pulled her to him and covered her lips with his. He raised himself up on his knees and brought her with him. He wrapped his arms around her and deepened this kiss, his tongue swiping gently around the inside of her mouth. She hummed in the back of her throat and broke the kiss. He sighed and slid off the edge of the bed to stand. "If I keep doing that, we'll never get out of here," he declared. 

She chuckled and jumped off the bed. "You start packing, if there's anything here to pack and I'll go get on the paperwork." She stopped at the door. "I was teasing you, some, but I was serious too, Mulder, about my conditions." 

He nodded sagely. "I know you were. And I promise ... I'll do whatever you want if you'll stay with me." 

"Always, Mulder. Always." Then she slipped out the door. 

* * *

* * *

**EPILOGUE (NC-17)**  
**DANA SCULLY'S APARTMENT**  
**ONE MONTH LATER**

They were nearing the end of their leave of absence. The killer had been caught a week after Mulder's release from the hospital. He'd phoned in his suspicions about the killer targeting the investigators families. Undercover cops were put on stake out at all the family homes of the investigators. One week later he made his move on the wife of a D.C. cop and the agents staked out there had nailed him. The wife ended up with a black eye and a split lip before the cops got to her, but she said it was a small price to pay if that sick-o was off the streets. She'd suffer it again willingly to catch 100 more like him. 

Mulder and she had gone to counseling, apart and together, as agreed and had made great strides in resolving old family issues that haunted both of them, and lots of angst and issues between them. Lots of unspoken things over the years came out in Dr. Kramer's office. Some of it had been rough. There were deep seeded resentments neither of them had even known existed, but they were aired, they hurt, but then they got better. 

They had one more week before they would run out of paid leave time. Scully was looking forward to going back to work. She was worried about Mulder, but figured there was only one way to find out if he was up for it. They would know soon enough. 

It was early morning and she went to roll over onto her back but ran into a giant, warm Pillow-O-Mulder. She grunted and he snaked his arms around her, pulling her into his naked body and pressing his erection between her ass cheeks. She pushed back against him and heard him hiss slightly. He began to pinch her nipple lightly and she flooded with moisture. That's all it took now. All it had ever taken from the beginning for her to be hot, wet and ready for him. 

One thing that hadn't been a problem was the sex. Scully was enjoying an uninhibited sex life for the first time in her life. She had resolved to hold nothing back. They had a few false starts, but once he realized she was just being shy and not upset at what he was trying, he would coax her gently into new things. A more considerate lover she couldn't ask for. 

He ran one hand down over her hip and down her leg. He traveled back up, veering off the hip exit and down onto the off ramp. His finger scudded through her pubic hair, scratching lightly and she pressed into his hand. He chuckled in her ear. His hand slid down and he pushed one long, elegant finger in between her lips, right up to the hand. She moaned. So did he. 

She still couldn't get over how excited he got from exciting her. She had always been a lip biter during sex, swallowing her sounds. But he quickly coaxed her into letting them go, telling her how sexy she was and how much her sounds turned him on. She wanted to please him, so she had let go. Once she saw the results, it had encouraged her to be freer with a lot of things. She loved turning him on. It made her feel like such a ... woman! She'd rarely taken pride in her femininity, but she did now. She teased him mercilessly and then enjoyed the payback. 

He lifted her leg up to set it gently on top of his and she braced herself for his entry. He surprised her when he rolled her onto her stomach. He grabbed two pillows and stuffed them both under her hips. 

He ran his hands over her back, her rear end, the back of her thighs. "Ahh, Scully, I'll never get over touching your skin. Like silk." 

She wiggled her bottom at him. "Quit teasing you monster." 

He chuckled. "You shouldn't rush morning sex." 

"No?" 

"No." He dipped his head and laved her butt cheeks with his tongue, stabbing at her anus and lapping the crease between her cheeks. She pushed back into his face and he grabbed her hips, keeping her still. She mewled in protest and he chuckled again. 

He lowered his lips to her entrance and sucked all the wetness off her lips. She squirmed under the grip of his hands on her hips. He lapped her gently and poked the end of his tongue against her clit making her jump. He inserted a finger again and stroked her until she flooded with wetness again. 

The bed dipped as he positioned himself behind her, teasing her entrance with the engorged head of his cock. She begged, "God, Mulder, Please!" 

"Ummm, please what?" he asked, rubbing up one side of her lips and down the other. 

"Please do it." 

"Do what?" 

Damn him. Oh hell. "Fill me up, Mulder, Please, take me now." 

He groaned and slid smoothly into her, holding her hips, stopping only when his thighs were pressed to hers and he was totally embedded. He stopped for a few seconds to savor the feeling. She was pulsing gently around him. She knew he loved this position, and he loved to savor the penetration. So did she, but she was impatient this morning. 

"Muuhuulllder! Please!" 

"O.K., Ms. Impatient." He began to stroke her smoothly and steadily and she sighed in relief. He was super hard with little give. She loved it when he was like this. He stopped and she mewled again, bringing a smile to his face. "God, I'm so hard, I want this to last." 

"It doesn't matter, we can always do it again later if this is quick." 

"Geez, Scully, I'm not 18 anymore, you know?" 

"Hasn't been a problem so far." 

She was right. They often had sex more than once a day. Sometimes after a particularly emotional day of counseling, they wouldn't have sex, but would just cuddle and fall asleep holding each other tight. Other days, they fucked three or four times before the day was over. 

He said softly, "I want to try something." She tensed slightly but then forced herself to relax. He'd never hurt her, despite fears she knew he still had about his potential for brutality. So far, he hadn't shown it to her. He'd been rough sometimes, but sometimes she liked it that way, but he'd never really hurt her. 

"O.K." she said. 

"It's nothing big," he responded. He lifted one leg and slid it over hers, pulling her leg in. Then he lifted the other one, doing the same thing. He wiggled slightly and lined his calves up with hers, using them to press her legs together. He withdrew and then gripped the sides of her butt, pushing them together tightly as well. 

He slowly reentered her, pushing gently until he was in all the way again. She had begun moaning at about the midpoint. Oh God, this made her so tight. He flexed his legs, holding her together and pushed her cheeks together at the same time. He retreated and reentered. She groaned. This little maneuver was making his wide cock literally press her walls open with every stroke. She felt a deep pulsing start in her abdomen. "Ahh, yeah, Mulder. Oh God, that feels sssooohooo goood!" 

He stroked slowly but steadily. Her head spun as the waves of pleasure washed through her with every push of his large cock that met the resistance of her narrow tunnel and pushed past the resistance to press deeply inside. "Faster," she panted. 

He sped up slightly but not enough. She began to push herself back onto him harshly. He groaned low in his throat. "Jesus, Scully! This makes you feel so tight. Ahh, yeah, that's delicious, baby, ahhh, shit, yeah!" 

He sped up again in response to her urging and soon he was retreating all the way and slamming back into her. "Ahhh, God," he shouted. 

He could feel his thighs quivering slightly against hers and knew he was holding back. "Let go, Mulder." 

"Ca...can't." 

He was so afraid of hurting her ... still. "Yes, you can. You feel fantastic, Mulder. She backed into him sharply and he groaned again, he strokes still fast and rhythmic. 

"Scully... I'm ... I want ... afraid ..." 

"Let go, Mulder. I'd stop you if it hurt, but it doesn't. God, can't you feel how wet I am for you. He shoved into her harshly and she tightened her internal muscles with all her might. He shouted a wordless sound. 

"Scully... God!" 

"Do it Mulder. I want you to do it." 

"I'll hurt you." 

"No! I promise, you won't. I want you to do it." 

"Do what?" 

"Do it hard, Mulder. Let it all go! Please, just do it HARD! Let. Go!" 

He snapped, wailed and began pounding into her. He was chanting, "Ahh Jesus, Ahh Christ, Ahh No, Ahh Scully, Ahh Scully, Ahh Scully." 

"YES!" she shrieked, pushing back into him, encouraging him, feeling their skin smack together. She was pushing back hard enough that she bounced away from him on impact. She pressed against the headboard to brace herself, and bent over to lay her head sideways on the mattress. 

"Oh, just like that, Mulder. Yes, Yes, Yes, just like that. So good, so good!" 

"Scully! Ohgodohgodohgod!" 

"Yes, Mulder, awww, yes, keep doing it hard, harder, feels so good." 

He wailed and just kept stroking into her. She could see him out of the corner of her eye and he was staring down at himself, entering her, his hips snapping, driving his cock into her with abandon. He strokes became sloppy and she knew he was close. 

"Scully, can't last, gonna come, can't last, ahh, shit!" 

She reached down and swiped once, hard, over her clit and went over the edge just as drove himself into her hard. She shouted, "Ahhh, yeah, I'm coming, Mulder!" He held himself inside, ground harshly into her and began pouring himself into her in a series of hot, hard pulses. He ground to a halt and she could actually feel his cock twitching inside her. They both groaned. 

They collapsed, going boneless and he rolled to the side. She threw the pillows up to the head of the bed and urged him up to lay on the pillow. He did and she crawled on top of him, resting her head below his chin. 

She whispered, "That was the best yet, Mulder." 

"Yeah?" he asked quietly. 

"Yeah." 

"I didn't hurt you?" 

"No silly, were you so involved in your orgasm that you missed mine?" she teased. 

She felt him smile into her hair and give her a peck on the top of the head. "No, but I was scared for a minute." 

"I know, just leftovers, but it's something we have to work on." 

"I know, but I almost panic every time you ask me to be ... harsh or rough with you." 

"I won't ask for anything I don't really want, Mulder. You have to trust me on that. And you have to trust that I will tell you if you do something that hurts. I will stop you. You don't have to worry about it." 

"Intellectually, I know that, and I do trust you." 

"But..." 

"But emotionally, something shifts inside of me every time you ask me to be ... rough, and I feel that panic creep in. I can't help it." 

"We'll work through it like we do everything else, but rest assured, that was the best!" 

He chuckled then. "Glad you liked it." 

She raised her head and cupped his jaw. They kissed slowly and tenderly. She pulled back to meet his eyes. "We're going to be O.K., I promise." 

He smiled. "Every day since I left that hospital has felt like a dream come true, Scully. I'm still reeling from it." 

"Yeah, well, you'll get used to me in no time and start calling me your 'old lady', and then I'll have to shoot you again and make another trip to the hospital." 

He laughed. "I would never call you my 'old lady'. I hate that expression." 

"Me too." 

"I might call you MY lady." 

She grinned. "Oh, well, that's O.K. then." 

He was suddenly serious. "I'm really not in some drug induced dream am I, lying in a mental ward in a straight jacket but indulging in the REALLY GOOD DRUGS?" 

She giggled. "Nope. You're here, I'm here. And ..." she reached down to grip his flaccid cock in her hand. 

He grunted. "Having this bad boy all to myself is better than any drug I've ever had." 

"Oh God, Scully! You've made me so happy. I've never been this happy. I don't know if I ever was happy till now." Her heart swelled at his words. That's all she ever wanted, was to make him happy. Maybe she'd achieved her goal after all ... once she'd gotten her head out of her ass." 

"I love you, Mulder, and you've made me happy too." 

"Love you, Scully." 

He pulled her into another heart stopping kiss and then reluctantly pulled back. "You are everything to me, Scully, and I would love to do some more horizontal mambo, but I reeeheealllly need a shower." 

She giggled. "You're an amazing man, Fox Mulder." 

He grinned. "Only when I have an amazing woman ..." 

"Behind you?" She quirked an eyebrow up at him. 

He shook his head. "No, never behind, Scully, always beside, always beside." 

**THE END.**   
  


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